


Yuri!!! on Ice | A Dozen Drabbles

by adariel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Angst, Character Development, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Smut, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Smut, Pet Names, Prompt Fic, Rating May Change, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, characters and pairings will be added as they appear, fighting over cats, one shots, possible major character death, what the hell is a timeline?, ya boi the rating went up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:11:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8509219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adariel/pseuds/adariel
Summary: A challenge my friend gave me: to complete a dozen drabbles/one-shots/etc. for the Yuri!!! on Ice fandom. Featuring angst, fluff, kisses, confessions, and maybe even death! I'll be either grabbing random prompts online that speak to me or filling prompts in the comments.If this goes well I might make a sequel once I finish! (Also a vague part of my NaNoWriMo goal: to write over 50k words for a single fandom. Fit well, so I figured I'd go with it.) I can do multiple relationships!- Seeking a beta reader / editor! I don't have enough free time in between writing and holiday prep and work to edit so it'd be a big help. HMU @ thanks4thememeories.tumblr.com if interested ^^





	1. Ethereal | Katsuki Yuuri x Victor Nikiforov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU in which you get a box that represents your soulmates heart and small notes appear when important events occur in your soulmates life - events that triggered intense emotions or the like. Except Yuuri still hasn't received his soulmate's box and he's beginning to think that maybe there isn't anything that his soulmates cares about.

The soulmate boxes had always been an enigma to Yuuri Katsuki.

They're beautiful, sure, but there are plenty of other beautiful things in this world such as flowers or paintings or people. There's no reason to cling to them like the people around him do, as if they're the only thing left worth hanging onto. 

The boxes are all unique: some have intricate floral designs, others are plain and unmarred yet still beautiful in the same retrospect. Some had letters, some had names, and others had numbers - dates, times, ages. It was all different. 

For the longest time soulmates had been a huge part of how the world functioned and yet a coveted one at the same time. There were no official documented "first sightings" of the boxes - just like viruses the soulmate boxes slipped into society, unseen until they'd become a worldwide epidemic.

The boxes were supposed to first appear when something life-changing affected your soulmate. Nestled in those boxes laid the deepest parts of your soulmates mind (the shallow parts too but nobody cared about that) where every thought was inscribed onto a paper hidden inside.

_(Not every thought, of course, that was just silly, but the ones that mattered, the ones that haunted you in the dead of night or sunk teeth into your mind when you wanted it gone-)_

His parent's boxes were black and white, which Yuuri had always found rather cliche but also grotesquely sentimental at the same time.

It was funny, because their designs looked so bold and upfront and yet it didn't depict his parents well at all. They had always been kind - too often they reminisced on golden days when they had first met.

Listening to them talk about it was like eating the same delicious food for days - it was sweet but after some time your tastebuds corrupted it, already sick and tired of the routine taste.

_(There was always a lingering fear that his soulmate would feel that way about him._

_That was, if he had one.)_

When Katsuki Yuuri found his soulmate's box he nearly lost it for good and he still bit his nails over that thought every day - that he had almost gotten rid of the one thing that meant the world to him.

Other days he wondered why he was so anxious over that box... did it really mean  _everything_ to him? Just a small box?  _If_ he had thrown it out, would his life be any different?

These kinds of thoughts filled Yuuri's mind like poison in his bloodstream.

The day that Yuuko got her soulmate's box she had nearly passed out from surprise. It had come so suddenly that even  _Yuuri_ nearly passed out from surprise, but he wouldn't ever admit to that. 

They had been skating, of course. It was a mutual love that had developed from both the availability of the rink and a love for dancing. Yuuri had been stumbling around while Yuuko tried to teach him how to balance (he was much newer to the sport than her) and when he tripped over her feet his hand flung out and grabbed the railing, only to send a small and unexpected object resting there flying across the floor.

Stunned, he glanced towards Yuuko, wondering if she had put something there, but she looked just as confused as him. All of their belongings were in the locker rooms, where they always were, except for their cellphones, which were neatly tucked into their pockets.

Yuuko had skated off of the rink and over to the fallen object. After a few moments he heard a strangled cry and he immediately skated over, worried that she had hurt herself, only to find her clutching a tiny golden box in her white, shaking hands as tears poured down her face. The box was opened to reveal a small note with a scrawly letters written on it - Yuuri found himself immediately glancing away with a flush, embarrassed to even think about looking at somebody else's belongings.

_(It was like a freeway into the hidden parts of someone and the weight of it was suffocating just to think about.)_

Yuuko left early that day, still clinging to her petite golden box as if it held the secret to her very own existence. 

Despite himself, Yuuri tried to be happy for her. He tried to ignore the way his heart wilted a bit. After all, he had spent the past four years holding a foolish notion that Yuuko was his soulmate. He wasn't sure why, it wasn't like he had any proof aside from their mutual lack of boxes, but now he felt utterly stupid as he returned home to find that his box was still absent. 

It got a lot harder to look at Yuuko after that. Especially when she would discreetly try to check her box for notes in the most obvious of ways, or when she found a note and let out a slight squeal of joy before excusing herself to the "bathroom" so she could read it.

_(As fun as it looked Yuuri was beginning to think it was all rather overdramaticized.)_

* * *

Yuuri was lonely. 

Everyone around him was beginning to get those rumored boxes. Despite the boxes' huge part in society, they were always kept hushed: little, dirty secrets people were afraid to air freely.

After Yuuko, his sister Mari got one. He always saw Minako fondling hers with shining eyes and even Celestino had one in his pocket all the time that he checked from time to time.

Despite their influence, the boxes were not always symbols of love and adoration. Not everyone was truly meant to be in love with their soulmate.

One time on his way home from school Yuuri had found a small and familiar black and violet box toppled over in the corner of an alley outside his house. It was Minako's - she always carried it with her, otherwise it was resting on a stand in her ballet studio. 

_(She touched it less and less lately, its worn edges seeming to no longer hold the appeal it had before.)_

His childish curiosity led him to wander over and pick it up, wondering if perhaps it was dropped on accident - however, as soon as he touched it the box scalded his hand, sending searing heat up his skin. He quickly dropped it, causing the box to spill open.

A torn up piece of paper fluttered to the ground with angry blocky letters on it - just seeing it made Yuuri flinch.

_(The words looked like angry scars cut into once-flawless skin, bold and ugly.)_

He walked home quickly and tried to forget what he had seen.  _It's Minako's business, not mine._

The curiosity had gnawed away at him for days. His tongue had more or less slipped one day while he was practicing moves in her studio -

_"Where did your soulmate's box go, Minako-san?"_

His words were greeted by a look he had never seen before on the woman's face: it was as if all the life had been sucked out of it, leaving her pale and frightened. It had taken her a moment to respond, a shaky,  _"Don't meddle, Yuuri,"_ and the lesson had been dismissed earlier than usual.

Later that night he found Minako drowning in alcohol --

_(much more than usual if such a thing were even possible)_

\-- and his sister told him the following day that something bad must have happened to Minako, because she had drank so much the night before that she'd been hospitalized. 

Yuuri regretted asking her every day, and from then on he swore to himself he would never approach the topics of soulmates ever again with anyone else. 

Months ticked by without any sign of a box. And then years.

At sixteen years old Yuuri had already accepted the fact that maybe he didn't have a soulmate.

He never asked his parents about it and they never asked him. His career as an ice-skater had begun to flourish as he started to work professionally, developing routines and working rigorously under Celestino. He had high hopes for competing - 

But when the time came to perform for a huge audience, he broke.

_(It was only a matter of time.)_

Despite his age, Yuuri had never really performed in a professional setting before. At small events, of course, but never for more than maybe a hundred people.

But this was different, here he was surrounded by cameras and flashing screens and screaming people waiting for a performance that would blow them away - and Yuuri had panicked.

His body seized up like a deer in the headlights and suddenly the ice skating rink was a lot bigger than it was before, and he could feel the eyes of  _every single person_ digging into his skin until he thought he would pop like a balloon.

His performance had been disastrous. He fell, he slipped, he forgot whole jumps, he was out of time with the music that his body knew better than it knew his own DNA. When he came off the rink he was bruised, sore, and  _humiliated._ Celestino had offered him a wordless pat on the back, a pat that said  _"I'm not happy, but I know better than to be disappointed."_

That night was the first night that Yuuri had ever binge-eaten.

He knew that he gained weight easily. He'd been in love with pork cutlet bowls since he was little but he always reserved them for wins due to their massive calorie count and his need to stay fit as a skater.

He ate six in a matter of one night.

All six made a reappearance in the toilet by morning -- he'd literally eaten himself sick. Celestino allowed him to take the day off and recollect himself, but it happened again. He managed to crawl out of bed long enough to go to the store and he ate, and he ate, and he  _ate_. 

_(Once he started it was hard to stop, it was hard to step back and question what the hell he was doing to himself.)_

In a matter of two weeks he had gained nearly thirty pounds. While Yuuri still skated, he did not do as well. His weight fluctuated - sometimes he would eat in mass (after performances) and other times he went by several meals without so much as a bite. Punishment and rewards. Celestino was not impressed, but he never said anything, and Yuuri didn't know whether to be relieved or upset.

By that time the matter of his soulmate was nothing but a distant thought.

Yuuri got a little better at performing by some miracle (likely his coling mechanisms blurring everything out of focus) and eventually he worked himself up to the Grand Prix.

By that time he was twenty-three years old and on the edge of giving up - not on figure skating in and of itself, but at least doing so competitively. He'd had a conversation with Celestino earlier:  _maybe I'm not just cut out for it. Maybe it's just not something I can do._ Celestino had not been happy about his defeated behavior, but he gave Yuuri one more chance - to prove himself at the Grand Prix.

Needless to say, it had been a disaster. The weight of where he was, his future decisions, it all rested heavily on his back. But what had really broken him was the news from the night before:

_Vicchan died. He was hit by a car after running away trying to find you. I'm so sorry, Yuuri._

He had first gotten his dog when he was seven. The only reason he had was because of one man:  _Victor Nikiforov._

Victor had always been something of a shining beacon amongst skaters and especially in Yuuri's mind (and his walls, they were practically  _vandalized_ with images of Victor, posters and fanart and promotional knickknacks.)

He was like a god of figure skating - he was nothing but one surprise after another. Right when you expected one thing of him, he completely turned the tables. It was inspiring, it was beautiful. The first time that Yuuko had shown him Victor's skating he had fallen in love almost immediately.

_(Rumors of Victor's soulmate spammed the Internet. Some said he didn't have one. Others claimed they had his box and showed pictures of a scripty letter 'V' on hundreds of different boxes. He didn't know what to believe.)_

He had more or less gotten the puppy for his own guilty pleasure, because Victor had an obsession with poodles and Yuuri was young and fascinated by everything the older man did... especially the figure skating idol's love for poodles. 

_(When he told Yuuko about it her whole face lit up like it was Christmas. He might have done it for her, he didn't know. He was selfish, though, either way.)_

He named it Victor, obviously. But, along with being a living symbol of his love for Victor('s  _skating_ , he reprimanded himself) the poodle was also dear to Yuuri.

In a world obsessed with soulmates the poodle had none (of course, since animals lived too realistically for such fanciful things) and therefor all of his love was reserved for Yuuri alone. 

_(He was so selfish, really.)_

He had always been at Yuuri's side: heavy or thin, win or lose, night or day. And the Grand Prix trip was the one time he didn't bring the dog with him.

_(No nearby hotels that were affordable_ _and allowed dogs, he tried to tell himself, but it was all a lie. If he had not been cheap maybe Vicchan would still be alive.)_

And now that he had selfishly left Vicchan at home, he had lost the one person in this world who could love him completely and  _unconditionally_. Soulmate or not. 

The night that the news had been broken to him Yuuri had binge-eaten again and stayed up late.

 _Grand Prix be damned_ , he hissed through a mouthful of chocolate lover's ice cream.  _It isn't as if I'm going to win. There's no point._

_(If there had been, he wouldn't have known.)_

There was never any point in what he did. That was why he did it. But Yuuri was too upset to know or even care about such a thing. Three bowls of ice cream, two coffees, and an entire box of spaghetti later he had passed out only to wake up an hour later vomiting all over the hotel bed. He was disgusted with himself.

He didn't sleep much that night either.

* * *

All of those factors tied into a performance at the Grand Prix that was nothing short of  _disastrous._

It made his first performance look like professional work. He stumbled around the ice like a drunken horse and even tripped skating off. Mutters surrounded him:  _How did that kid get to the Grand Prix? Judges must have taken sympathy on him. He isn't in any condition to be a professional skater._

He was a joke. A shame on the ice.

When he made his way out of the building he prepared himself for the cold outside - it was freezing, nothing like the winters in Japan. This winter was  _furious._ But Yuuri didn't care as much as he should. People were trying to talk to him, but he didn't care, they could shove -

_"Yuuri."_

The mouth that spoke his name belonged to none other than figure skating legend who had been a constant beacon of strength to Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov. The instant that he heard his name on those lips he felt a slow tremble crawl up his spine and paralyze him on the spot.

_(His voice was everything sweet but in a rough way, like burned honey, like cold mint. Yuuri found himself craving the sound more than he would admit.)_

_(Also, Victor Nikiforov was even more beautiful in person than he was on a faded television or on the photos staining his walls.)_

_"About your free performance."_

He wasn't talking to him. He was talking to a small blonde kid who looked like he wanted to lock off the whole world and never open up again. But Yuuri couldn't pull his eyes away.

 _"The step sequence could use more-_ "

_"I won, so who cares?"_

The words dug their nails into Yuuri's skin until he was certain he had been physically injured. The over-confident, childish voice made his ears ring as he suddenly recalled  _exactly_ who his idol was talking to - 

_(A foot slammed against the door. A thickly-layered accent spitting at him with obvious malice -_

_"Incompetents like you should just retire!")_

He didn't know what he had done to piss off the Russian Yuuri, but at the same time, he was in no state to care. All he could hear was the words  _Vicchan_ and  _dead_ in the same sentence. He'd almost forgotten about the encounter altogether.

Still, Yuuri couldn't help but selfishly let himself indulge in the beauty of the man in front of him as he strode by. He was all carved muscle, a narrow face, his silver hair falling around it in waves. It looked so soft, so silken that Yuuri couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to run his fingers - 

A glance over the shoulder.

Suddenly Yuuri's brown eyes were met with brilliant blue irises that sparkled with interest. His lips parted and a breath exhaled - Yuuri found his entire body stiffening with a mixture of excitement and terror -  _Victor is going to talk to me, Victor is going to talk to me, Vict_  -

_"A commemorative photo?"_

His heart fell through the floor. It was then that he was painfully reminded of exactly what he was in Victor Nikiforov's eyes - nothing more than a starved fan desperate for affection. Stumbling around trying to be noticed by the Russian figure skating god.

And that was if he was lucky that Victor did not share his Russian counterpart's opinion of him - a worthless incompetent who didn't deserve to touch the ice in a million lifetimes.

 _"Sure!"_ Victor's voice was still friendly and unlike other legends, it not a forced kindness, it was genuine.

He was ethereal.

That was one word that summed Victor Nikiforov in person up pretty well. He was almost too perfect, too  _beautiful_ to truly exist, to truly be anything less than a figment of Yuri's imagination. And it was a painful reminder that he would never, never be in reach of Victor Nikiforov. 

_(He was a nobody. He had no soulmate. Nobody to come home to except a house full of strangers who had bigger problems to worry about than a child with broken dreams.)_

_(He didn't know why he had ever considered himself worthy of skating on the same ice as Victor Nikiforov.)_

Yuuri wasn't sure where he was headed when he tripped over his feet to escape the suddenly stifling building, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The harsh cold of the outside was welcoming to the heat that was burning his face from the crippling shame. He walked in the piling snow for hours along deserted streets, the only sounds around him being the faint buzz of lamplights and the crunch of snow under his soaked sneakers.

He was probably going to get sick from being in the cold so long - his fingers were numb. But he didn't care. He stuffed his hands into his pockets to thaw them when the numbness became painful. His fingers were so cold that, at first, he didn't feel the pressure of a cool object nestled in his pocket.

 _It's just my phone_ , he reasoned with himself as he stared up at the sky, letting the snowflakes fall on his face like frozen tears. They rolled down his cheeks as they melted, deliciously cold.

 _(He was so ignorant when he was upset. He might have noticed sooner if he'd just looked._ _)_

Somewhere in the middle of his aimless wandering he tripped and fell and the snow engulfed him, wrapping cool arms around his body and sucking all the warmth out.

The numbness was welcomed - it help erase all of his other thoughts. Soon the snow overwhelmed his vision and all he saw was overwhelming white - it swallowed him whole, he went willingly. 

He dreamt of Victor Nikiforov. It wasn't the first time in any sense... he had dreamt of Victor many times, and not all of them were wholly innocent either. But this one was different, it felt rather real. He could feel Victor's hands, cool and gentle, carving a cool path into his face, tracing every feature as if trying to memorize it. His cold fingers hovered tantalizingly above Yuuri's lips until he felt like begging and then Victor's cold thumb brushed along his lower lip.

 _(His touch was so cold. It was colder than ice, but Yuuri liked the feeling. He had always thought of Victor as being fiery so this was a nice change._ )

Slowly, though, his freezing body began to warm up. Yuuri could only watch in mute horror as the silver-haired skater melted away, his edges fraying and his body dissipating until only those beautiful cerulean eyes remained, caressing him gently. 

 _"Stay with us,"_ he begged without lips.  _"Don't let go just yet."_

 _("I'm not going anywhere," he begged himself to say, but his lips had been sewn tightly together.)_  

* * *

All too soon did Victor fade away, as perfectly ethereal as Yuuri had imagined him to be.

His eyes reluctantly peeled open only to be attacked by fluorescent lights that made him feel dizzy and on the edge - he squeezed his eyes shut once more and begged for the image of Victor to return, but there was nothing.

"Ah, I see you've returned to the land of the living."

The voice that spoke to him was soft and familiar - Yuuri's eyes fluttered open again and trailed along the room until he saw his sister hovering over him like a worried mother bird, her coffee eyes shimmering with unshed tears that made Yuuri's stomach clench with worry. 

_(Mari never looked like that. She always had a hollow look in her eyes like there was nothing left for her to see. This transition was scary.)_

"What happened?"

His voice didn't sound familiar at all, it was hoarse and ragged like a smoker's, and it made him flinch backwards into a soft material. 

_(A vague part of his brain recognized it as his bed, but that didn't make sense because he was pretty sure he hadn't gone home yet.)_

"Careful." Mari's voice was softer as she reached out and pressed a palm to his head. "You're still a little disoriented, probably from the drugs they gave you. I swear, doctors are useless."

Yuuri frowned. She wasn't making any sense. Where was he? Where was Celestino and why was he not at the hotel he was at for the Grand Prix? How had he gotten home?

_(It must be a dream. He was beginning to lose sight of reality and dream again, how silly.)_

Despite his curiosity, his eyelids began to flutter shut. The last thing he remembered hearing was a door creaking open and a soft, honey sweet voice wrapping around him in a low tone he couldn't understand. He let its warmth surround him as he drifted into unconsciousness.

_(He didn't dream of Victor that night. He supposed there was a limit to the amount of good dreams he could have. Instead he dreamt of suffocating darkness.)_

* * *

Yuuri wasn't allowed to skate for a while after that. He still didn't know exactly what had happened after the Grand Prix aside from losing and --

_(Victor, calling his name but also not his name, only to pass by like a distant breeze - )_

and Vicchan and the freezing cold. His family evidently wasn't too eager to talk about it aside from mentioning it in rhetorics and metaphors.

_("It isn't something you should worry about," they said, as if an entire week missing from his life wasn't worth worrying about, how foolish.)_

Eventually he had been strong enough to skate again, and during that time he had lost a lot of weight, an amount he should of been proud of but instead was slightly underwhelmed by it all. His family passed it off as a simple flu and moved on.

The first time Yuuri stepped onto the ice it was like seeing a long-lost lover after months away - it welcomed him with cool fingers and a soft embrace. 

_(Just like Victor's touch in his dream. What a naive dream.)_

What started out as a small warmup soon developed into something bigger, as he let his eyes slide shut and all he could bring forth were images of Victor, his gentle turquoise eyes, his silvery hair falling over his face in soft tresses, his body in a delicate arch - 

 _(And before he knew it he was copying Victor's moves, willing his body to be just as fluid, just as gentle and hard-edged as Victor's had been.)_  

When he came to a halt it was as if he couldn't even remember his own name -- it felt like only a heartbeat but the performance must have been over three minutes -- he could only feel the rush of blood in his ears as he fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to the cool ice.

_(He was beginning to like the cold.)_

There was a pattering of footsteps and then he could feel a gentle hand on his shoulder. He glanced up to see Yuuko watching him with eyes wide and full of questions. He offered a shaking smile as he brushed her off and stood up straight, ignoring her offer of help.

"Is everything alright, Yuuri?"

She sounded so much softer, gentler, as if talking to an injured puppy instead of a childhood friend she could trust. It hurt. A little. 

_(His pride fervently denied it though.)_

"I'm fine." He tried his best to reassure her as he brushed the ice from his shoulders and cheeks and avoided her eyes which still held a million questions he couldn't answer. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for."

Still, she spoke so carefully. He decided that he didn't like that tone of her voice. He liked it better when she was laughing and pushing him around for being a nerd.

"Hey," she said suddenly, her voice shifting to something more confused. Yuuri glanced up to see her eyes falling on something near the ice. He followed her gaze. 

"Is that yours?"

Sitting at his feet was a small silver box.

* * *

Yuuri could not keep his hands off of his box. Everytime he tried to put it down it found its way nestled between his palms again, it's cool surface warmed by his body heat. It was flawless.

It was ethereal. 

His fingers roamed over the surface of it late at night, desperately memorizing every curve and indent in the surface as if it were a Braille bible and he was a blind preacher. A floral pattern decorated the surface and ended in a small rose at the very tip, whose petals were falling off and frozen in time. The box was lined with crystal edges, looking horrifically expensive but also priceless at the same time.

He spent so long running his fingers over the surface, entranced by its exterior, that he almost forgot to read the contents of it, for there had to be some kind of triggering event that had caused its appearance. That was how these boxes worked - somebody would experience an event that shifted their life drastically and immediately a box would capture that event for eternity.

Eventually the box began to heat under his touch almost insistently, begging to be opened. Yuuri almost yelped with his surprise as he hesitantly lifted the lid. Inside, a rich velvet cushion greeted him. 

_(His fingers explored it as well, desperate to commit it to memory.)_

A small note inscribed in cursive English lay innocuously on its surface. Yuuri gently picked up between his fingers, marveled at the neatness of the lettering, the weight of it in his palm. 

He opened the note up completely to read the words on it:

_I met him for the first time._

As soon as Yuuri read the hesitant words he felt his heart yawn open. He had met his soulmate? When? Had he recklessly passed them by in a crowd, just a brush of shoulders, a pass of glances? How had he been so stupid to not notice? How could he be so foolish as to ignore their plea? And how long... how long had this been in his pocket for? He couldn't remember when he last checked.

_(What if they had forgotten him?)_

The words burned holes into his eyelids.

The longer he looked at them the more painful they were to look at. He had met his soulmate and yet he didn't even  _know_ it. He was horrible, a horrible person. He leaned his head back and rested it against his pillow, rolling over so his face was engulfed by it. He wouldn't mind suffocating now. 

His soulmate. His soulmate.

_(The word rung in his ears, innocent and soft. Soulmate. He wanted to say it over and over again.)_

Up until now there was not a thing in this world that his soulmate had deemed special to him. Nothing that had ever permanently changed his life - and yet now here he sat, and the one thing that had finally,  _finally_ garnered a response from his soulmate was an encounter...

that Yuuri himself wasn't even aware of.

He was a horrible soulmate. Wherever, and whoever, his soulmate was, they certainly did not deserve such a person as selfish as him. So overwhelmed by his own emotions that he didn't know who his soulmate was after meeting them for the first time. He felt sick.

_(I'm sorry.)_

His phone lit up with a text message later that night, but Yuuri ignored it. The last thing he needed was more bad news.

* * *

_"You're an internet sensation, Yuuri!"_

The high-pitched cries of the the triplets made Yuuri's ears ring as they climbed over his bed, throwing the sheets off and bouncing up and down on his sore body. He groaned as he rolled on his side, the weight of a painfully familiar object in his palm reminding him of the night before.

_My soulmate._

"Did you hear us?" Loop's loud voice cut into his thoughts as she slapped his chest. He winced. "I said, you're famous! We uploaded a video of you doing Victor's routine on YouTube and you're an internet sensation! They love you!"

It took Yuuri a few minutes to fully comprehend what they were blabbing about and by then they had already moved on to "Yuuri Merch". He felt dizzy by all the commotion around him this early, especially after going to sleep so late. He clutched his soulmate's box to his chest tightly. 

"Hold on," he said finally, his voice groggy with sleep. "You did  _what?_ "

As the triplets continued to babble over each other Yuuri only found himself growing more and more confused. He was more than used to their pointless banter, but at this point it was nauseating. He rolled over and saw his phone, vaguely recalling the text from last night.

Pushing the triplet's screaming aside, he opened the text from last night - it was from Nishigori. Confused, he opened it -

and was face to face with a video of himself on the ice. Suddenly it felt like there was cotton in his throat.

_Katsuki Yuri Tried to Skate Victor's FS Program "Stay Close to Me."_

The headline glared at him, the letters permanently imprinted on his brain as he registered where the video had come from. There was a message at the bottom along the lines of  _"the girls hacked my account and uploaded it, I'm so sorry"_ but Yuuri felt like he was swimming in an ocean of dizziness.

A video of him attempting to skate  _the_ Victor Nikiforov's program had gone viral. And unless Victor lived in a hole underground... he had probably seen it. Or caught wind of it.

It was as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs. Before Yuuri had time to comprehend all of the information that had been graciously delivered to him so early in the morning, his box began to smolder in his palms again and he hesitantly opened the lid to read its contents while the triplets chattered around him.

_My soulmate is the most beautiful figure skater I have seen in my life._

* * *

Yuuri was fairly convinced that if his life were to meet a sudden and abrupt end right now, he would have no arguments. He had locked himself away in his room again and closed his blinds, let the darkness swallow him whole while his fingers subconsciously smoothed out the paper in which he had received that morning.

The words repeated over and over in his head.

_(They had seen him, his mind reminded him cruelly. But they had also called his performance beautiful.)_

He was conflicted.

Never in his life had Yuuri considered his skating to be beautiful. Perhaps skillful to an extent, but never beautiful. However, watching it now, it was as if the word had been carved into his skin. He felt as though he was suffocating on the air he breathed, but it was an amazing feeling, an amazing ability to _feel._

He missed this childish fascination with soulmates.

After all the terrible things he had witnessed with soulmates -

_(Heartbroken cries, Minako drowning herself in liquor, being pushed away by Yuuko -)_

\- after all of that, he still felt stupidly giddy.

The box was cool in his hands once more but he could feel his soulmate through it, as childish as it sounded. He continued to trace aimless patterns on its surface until his mother's voice rang through the door:

_"You shouldn't hole yourself up all day! Come outside and help shovel the snow."_

Snow. In the middle of April?

Yuuri drifted towards his window, hesitantly pulling open the blinds. What he saw was a blinding white and suddenly it all came back to hit him in the face - the snow, the cold, the darkness that wrapped its fingers around him. He had fallen asleep outside, and the thought of it was humiliating. Who had found him? Who had been the one to pull him out of the snow?

_"I met him for the first time."_

Yuuri could feel the panic and anxiety rising in his throat once more. He had been unconscious when his soulmate found him because he had passed out in the snow. And after it all he had never even been able to thank his soulmate. The realization made his heart clench.

_(He had to forget, he had to let it go, there was no use clinging to the past when he could not change it.)_

He numbly pulled himself out of bed and stumbled out of the door as he pulled on a sweater and socks. Once he got outside he was faced with a wall of white. The snow had accumulated so quickly, falling in almost desperate clusters as if there wasn't an inch of ground that it didn't wish to blanket in white.

As his vision cleared, Yuuri glanced down to find a familiar cocoa-brown poodle gazing at him with wide eyes.

_Vicchan._

A million possibilities sprung into his head like raindrops - no, like the snowflakes that scattered on his cheeks as he stared up at the sky. 

_(Maybe it was another dog that was hit. Maybe it was all just a dream and Vicchan was at the vet. Maybe - )_

This dog was too big.

The realization was like a smack to the face, moments before the dog that was obviously not Vicchan pounced on him and sent him to the ground. Yuuri felt suffocated by the weight of her but still pet her regardless, the soft curls welcoming his fingers. He threaded his fingers through her fur gently.

"Who's dog are you, hm?"

_(He used the voice he always used for Vicchan and it felt wrong.)_

The dog licked his face. Something about this dog was familiar and Yuuri had assumed that it was the similarity to Vicchan, but that wasn't right. He was almost certain that he had seen this dog before but the thought evaded him in distant clouds. 

_(He knew only of one other poodle.)_

There was absolutely no chance.

"She looks like our Vicchan, doesn't she?"

His father's voice grounded Yuuri again and he glanced over to him almost dazedly. His father gave his usual rumbling, heartwarming laugh.

"She came with this handsome foreigner. He went straight for the hot spring! Ah, foreigners..."

Yuuri had stopped listening. His heart, which had been pounding erratically from the surprise of the poodle on his doorstep, came to an abrupt halt and the air was punched out of his lungs.

_(There was no way, his mind desperately tried to reason, but his heart would have none of it, still clinging to him desperately like it was the only thing worth holding onto..._

_Just like Yuuko did with her soulmate's box, he noted dryly.)_

Yuuri's legs moved without his consent. Somewhere on his desperate clamber towards the hot springs, he heard something fall out of his pocket, but he was too terrified to give it much thought.

_(His soulmate's box was glowing so intensely Yuuri's father feared it would implode. Instead a single note lay in waiting:_

_"I've come for you, Yuuri."_ _)_

* * *

The next few weeks spun by in a blur, as if Yuuri was on a train going two hundred miles per hour and clinging for his life. Stopping to figure out in what direction that the train was headed was completely out of his reach at this point.

_(He couldn't find his soulmate's box.)_

_(He didn't care.)_

_(He was too busy.)_

Victor Nikiforov was his coach.

Everytime he repeated the words to himself they made his throat seize up. It was like trying to convince himself that he was a tiger when he was most certainly not. It was truly unbelievable. Yuuri barely had time to catch up with the world spinning out of control around him, and as desperately as he tried to cling to it, he couldn't.

There was something to the way that Victor's eyes shone that made Yuuri want to throw away his soulmate's box.

_(He had fallen in love.)_

_(He really was the worst soulmate.)_

Victor was touchy. Yuuri didn't know if it was just the natural European affection that was constantly attributed to them or something deeper but he was too much of a coward to ask.

_(He was also too selfish - he was afraid if he asked, they would stop, and he didn't want that.)_

Victor had thrown Yuuri's life out of orbit and he didn't necessarily feel like going back. His mind reeled with indecision: would he break that fragile connection he had with his soulmate or push Victor away?

Yuuri couldn't sleep.

The darkness seemed to dig its nails into him and pin him to the ground, paralyzed. He was at a crossroads, his breathing growing more and more shallow as the panic rose in his throat.

Before he realized what he was doing he was desperately clawing at his bed sheets, searching, digging, begging silently.

_(Where had it gone? How had he lost it? When had he last felt its cool exterior? He craved it - )_

_(But he also craved Victor. He longed for those fleeting touches, half-lidded gazes, intense turquoise eyes pinned on nothing but him.)_

A sudden knock on the door sent Yuuri's heart into his throat as he froze, half-bent over his bed as he desperately fished between it and the wall.

_"Yuuri."_

It was Victor. His voice was thick and husky with sleep and just hearing it through the walls made the blood rush to his face, his mind cloud over.

_(But his soulmate - )_

The door creaked open after he received no response. Victor stood in Yuuri's doorway, the moonlight streaming through Yuuri's window giving him a silver outlining that bounced off of his skin, and yet again the word echoed in his head:

_Ethereal._

Yuuri was still frozen like a pathetic creature staring into its predator's eyes. 

Victor, standing before him with his robe slipping innocently over his shoulder to reveal more of his collarbone - 

_(He really was beautiful, all curves and sharp edges, white skin flushed with, what, leftover heat from the hot spring?)_

Yuuri retreated from his cramped position between the bed and the wall to throw himself onto the bed and sit up straight, trying to look as innocent as possible even as his mind welcomed itself to exploring all the  _unseen_ parts of Victor's body - 

_(Parts he was by no means unfamiliar with due to Victor's flamboyant nakedness...)_

_"You look like a startled cat._ _"_ A breathy laugh escaped Victor's chest and it made Yuuri's stomach lurch with desire. 

Everything about him was truly flawless.

_(Just like his soulmate's box.)_

Suddenly Victor was coming closer, the door easing shut behind him, and Yuuri could no longer think about or see anything other than the pale god in front of him as he came ever closer, until he was at the foot of Yuuri's bed -

_and God, he was coming even closer still, smoothly gliding over the sheets on his hands and knees as if it were nothing at all -_

and Yuuri couldn't breathe, couldn't think at all.

Victor hovered above him like a predator standing over it's kill, his brilliant cerulean eyes dancing with mischief in the faint moonlight.

Yuuri would have called him drunk if it weren't for the clarity in those beautiful eyes and the fact that it was almost  _impossible_ for Victor to get drunk, being Russian and all, he had quite a high tolerance.

_He was getting closer, and Yuuri was sure that there was no more space between them and yet that small space opened like a chasm._

Victor was arched over him, his hands pinned to the pillows beneath Yuuri's head - 

_(Somehow he had ended up on his back trying to evade Victor's predatory stare - )_

And his silver hair spilled over his face like a waterfall. 

_(Yuuri noted, much to his own chagrin, that Victor's hair had grown out quite a bit and now brushed gently against his cheek, and he craved then more than ever to reach out and just **touch it** \- )_

Victor had him caged like a wild animal. 

And Yuuri did not mind at all.

_"You've been a rather naughty kobuta-chan, haven't you?"_

Victor's voice was just as sweet as the day it had been when he first heard him speak in person, but this time it was silken and it seemed to trail its fingers over Yuuri's skin, a whisper of a touch. 

Yuuri shivered beneath Victor.

"I...," he breathed out, his tongue feeling like cotton as he tried to form words. "I don't... know what you m-mean."

_(Only Victor Nikiforov could make him become a stuttering fool like this.)_

A smirk curled at Victor's lips and  _God he wanted to kiss him -_

_"That's cute."_

Yuuri's heart caught in his throat and he froze beneath Victor, his heart crashing against his ribcage as he realized with no lesser amount of mortification that not only had he thought such a  _disloyal_ thing but he also had the nerve to utter such a thing  _out loud and to Victor Nikiforov's face_.

He wanted nothing more than to melt into the sheets below him like the snowflakes did on his skin. 

Victor laughed his breathy, beautiful laugh again and it stirred across Yuuri's face, cool and soft.

_"I can't do that though."_

Yuuri felt the weight crash down on his chest like a ton of bricks and he could no longer see straight - which might have had something to do with the fact that he hadn't been breathing for the past twenty seconds. He released a shaking breath and it helped to ground him.

_(That was right because unlike Victor he was selfish and disloyal to his soulmate who had done nothing but be kind to him and what kind of person was he - )_

Victor pressed a finger to the crown of Yuuri's head and it traced a line all the way down to the tip of his nose, his knuckles skimming his cheekbone before falling to frame Yuuri's face. His touch left a burning path in its wake.

Once again Yuuri could no longer think straight. The way Victor was able to disable him like this was so  _frustrating,_ he hated to be out of control -

_"You have that face again."_

Victor's voice was soft and it was inches away from his ear - somehow in the middle of all that Victor had managed to sneak his mouth to hover on the side of Yuuri's face not occupied by his hand and his lips brush against the shell of his ear in a way that makes Yuuri shudder. 

"What face?" His words are a gasp.

 _"Your thinking face."_  A thumb brushes across Yuuri's forehead and smooths out the wrinkles there as a hoarse chuckle escapes the beautiful man above him - the sound humiliatingly goes straight to Yuuri's groin, which seems to have taken the wheel on most of Yuuri's decisions at the moment. 

" _Oh,_ " Yuuri gasps out loud because --

Victor's lips are pressed against his throat. 

He can't breathe. He can't think. He can't speak. He can't move.

Victor could do anything he wanted to him and Yuuri wouldn't have a word of complaint. His body practically arches up to meet Victor's and all he's done is brush his lips across the skin of his lower jaw, moving downwards to his jugular, leaving a scorching trail on the heat of his flesh. 

 _"Victor - "_ he begs.

The lips skimming his skin curve upwards a little and suddenly Victor pulls back. The absence that his presence leaves is painful but its like a slap to the face -

 _His soulmate._ He had a soulmate. And yet the feelings he felt for Victor were no longer ones he could shove under the bed.

_(That didn't explain this cruel game Victoe was playing though, luring him in and tossing him away?)_

Before he can dig himself into a deeper hole of guilt there's a weight pressed into his opened palm. A very familiar weight - because Yuuri had spent hours tracing it's shape until he could recognize it blindfolded, drugged, and in excruciating pain.

"What - "

Victor cuts Yuuri's inquiry off by pressing a cool finger to his lips and once again his mind clouds and he wants nothing more than to kiss the digit on his lips but with every remaining cell in his body he manages to to resist. 

_"Read it."_

He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to read the notes - they'll only make this hurt more, this blatant  _ignorance_ -

His fingers are shaking as he opens the lid.

Dozens of papers flutter all over his bed sheet. Not just a few, but hundreds - so many that they honestly should not be able to fit in such a small box.

Victor leans back -  _undoubtedly terrified by the sheer amount of them and how Yuur could ignore such a desperate adoration_ \- and Yuuri hesitantly sits up until he's crisscrossed on the bed.

The papers glow silver in the moonlight and Yuuri  _doesn't want to read them._  If he does the fragile scene he's made for himself will crumble all around him.

_(God only knew he was too selfish for that to happen.)_

Victor is silent. Yuuri picks up the first paper with his fingers still trembling and tries to make out the words past eyes burning with shameful tears. 

When he does read it, he has to do so ten more times to make sure his eyes are not playing tricks on him.

_"I love his smile."_

It doesn't make any sense. How could his soulmate have seen his smile if Yuuri was not  _there_?

He frowns at the note before pulling another out of the pile, growing anxious. Had they been watching him this whole time?

_"I love his voice."_

This wasn't right. There was no way he had talked to his soulmate, he would have  _known,_ somehow, he had to -

He was pulling them out at random, clinging to them, searching desperately for an indication of  _who_ instead of what. 

_"I love the way he moves." "I love his step sequence." "I love his embrace." "I love his soft skin." "I love his lips." "I love his earnesty."_

It doesn't make sense.

It doesn't make sense.

Had his soulmate been there the whole time? Had he been so stupidly wrapped up in his own  _selfishness_ to not see his lover in front of him all of this time?

As these thoughts spun a vicious web in his mind, tangling him up and dizzying him, he saw a slight glimmer of the corner of his vision. He blinked as he turned his head towards the box (still desperately trying to solve this puzzle of  _who_ ) and saw a single note remaining at its very center. Confusion continued to cloud his mind - had he missed it somehow? But he had dumped them all out -

Before Yuuri could question himself any further a slender, pale hand pulled the single note out of the box and his turquoise eyes skimmed it over.

 _Oh, God, no, don't look, don't look, you'll know, you'll see what a horrible soulmate I've been_ - 

_"I'm in love you with, Katsuki Yuuri."_

The words rolled off of Victor's tongue like butter and just hearing them in his soft voice was  _painful_ , it made him feel like his insides were being pulled apart with regret and guilt.

Now it was all out in the open - Yuuri had selfishly been pursuing his idol instead of devoting the love and attention his soulmate desired (and _deserved_ ) to that special person. He was, amongst men, a  _roach._ A greedy insect.

And even so he could still feel his insides boiling with selfish, crude glee at hearing those words coming from Victor Nikiforov's mouth, even if they truly did not come from _him_.

_And then another note appeared._

Victor had taken possession of it almost immediately and Yuuri could no longer meet his eyes, instead staring determinedly at the bedsheet and the notes scattered along it --

and it was when that occurred that two things suddenly made themselves apparent to Yuuri before he even realized what was happening.

First was Victor Nikiforov's gentle voice murmuring the words from the newest note in a voice that, instead of being mocking or delivered with distaste, was earnest and sincere and most  _certainly_ meant for him -  _from Victor Nikiforov himself._

_"Ya lyublyu tebya."_

And second was the opened note that rested innocuously before him and read:

_"I will get him to the Grand Prix finals. And he will win - even it if kills me."_

And suddenly, as if somebody had taken all the broken links scattered on his bed and snapped them together all at once, the whole thing made beautifully perfect sense. Yuuri was left feeling oh so utterly  _stupid_ for not drawing this conclusion before:

\-- It had been right after he first met Victor that he felt the slightest of pressures in his pocket on that freezing night in the snow after the failed Grand Prix.

\-- It had been Victor's soft voice that time when his sister had been crying - soft and gentle and smooth. 

\-- It had been Victor who had taken him this far without an ounce of regret as far as Yuuri could tell.

When Yuuri finally lifted his tear-filled gaze to meet Victor's he was nearly blown away to see that the Russian man had a hint of wetness in his bright cerulean eyes that shone like silver in the moonlight.

_(Silver, silver, just like the color of his box, dazzling and with a hint of crystal, the tears lingering there...)_

Fire seared across Yuuri's chest and wrapped around his heart, pulling violently on it. Before he could stop himself there were tears sliding down his face and he was reminded of Yuri Plisetsky calling him a  _crybaby_ and it made him feel ill but at the same time his tears were not of sorrow but joy so he couldn't care less.

Victor Nikiforov, his idol, his childish crush, his coach - he was  _his._

And likewise Yuuri belonged to him.

Just thinking about it made him feel dizzy with relief. 

Somehow in the middle of Yuuri's soft crying Victor had come closer again and pulled Yuuri into his lap, his body wrapping around Yuuri like a vise, protecting him from everything else as his warm hand ran a gentle trail up and down Yuuri's spine.

Yuuri buried his face in Victor's neck, nuzzling the skin there and relishing the warmth that was offered - Victor's pulse beat beneath the skin almost erratically, the only indication that Victor was affected by the proximity - 

_(and everything about Victor was undeniably precious, undeniably kind, Yuuri wanted to hold him forever.)_

Yuuri took soft hiccuping breaths as he breathed in the smell of Victor  _(sweet like apples but with a hint of spice - he smelled a lot like cider, really)_ and let it calm him down along with the rhythmic strokes on his back and the murmurs in his ear, most of it Russian but some English scattered throughout.

 _"Don't cry, durachok, don't cry. I'm here,"_ Victor murmured, his breath sending a shiver down Yuuri's spine. He found himself moving closer to the older man, desperate to remove any semblance of space, to hold Victor as close as possible without breaking him.

Somehow breaking Victor didn't seem like something he could do easily or on accident.

He had been so afraid that what he felt for Victor was  _wrong_ , socially incorrect, because he didn't think Victor was his soulmate. He had been so convinced that he was nothing less than a liar and a selfish piece of shit and now here he was in the arms of his beloved  _and_ his soulamate...

_(And there was nothing in the world that could ever make him happier, he decided, than to be able to have Victor in his arms like this. They were carved for each other like separate puzzle pieces desperate to be conjoined.)_

Yuuri didn't realize he was shaking until Victor pulled back and pressed a featherlight kiss to his forehead. Yuuri wasn't sure if it was due to the cold or his overwhelming emotions, but Victor seemed to decide for him because suddenly Victor had pulled them both onto their sides and a warm blanket covered them all the way to their heads that smelled like home and Victor and everything good in this world.

"You're shivering,  _durachok_ ," Victor pointed out, his eyelids lowered as his arms moved from Yuuri's back to his arms to rub the goosebumps away.

Yuuri had curled up into a ball, still pressed as close to Victor as possible, but as Victor's hands slowly warmed his skin he unfurled from his fetal position and eventually he was lying with his lean legs intertwined with Victor's long, muscled ones. 

He could feel every edge, every delicious contour of the man beside him and he loved it, he loved him,  _he loved Victor_ -

"You're speaking aloud again, love."

Victor's voice was no longer light and teasing but instead it was rough and ragged as if he were in pain - when Yuuri glanced up the older man's face was shadowed as if at war with himself.

Yuuri flinched, afraid he had done something to upset Victor, but his worries disappeared as Victor groaned a guttural noise and pulled Yuuri impossibly closer and buried his face in his neck, lips barely grazing the exposed skin there.

"You're going to be the death of me, _kobuta-chan_ , I swear."

Victor's voice was ragged as he murmured into Yuuri's neck. He sounded like he was in pain.

"I came here with honest intentions but I'm no longer confident I can maintain them...."

It was then that Yuuri realized Victor was not upset, that the hoarseness of Victor's voice was due to something else _entirely_ and when he pulled back to see Victor's face the silver-haired man looked absolutely, and  _beautifully_ , wrecked, as if all of his self-control was hanging by a single, fading thread.

_(To think that he could have such an intense effect on the man who had caused Yuuri many sleepless nights just imagining the things Victor could do to him, it made his stomach coil in an amazing, almost possessive way - )_

"I'm sorry - " Yuuri said suddenly, the words falling from his mouth before he could catch them. Victor's eyes narrowed in confusion but Yuuri couldn't stop, the words clawing their way out of his throat - "I've been so greedy all of this time. I kept you to myself even though I didn't know who my soulmate was, and I've done nothing but be _selfish_ and I'm so sorry,  you don't deserve -"

Yuuri was silenced by the warmth of Victor's lips stealing his own, any semblance of space left between their bodies erased completely with a force that made Yuuri's toes curl delightedly.

Whatever words he had been preparing to spew died immediately in his throat as Victor's lips were on his, his cool combined with Yuuri's hot in a way that was utterly  _delicious_ - 

and Yuuri wanted more, he wanted to taste every  _inch_ of the man in front of him, so he returned the kiss with equal force if not increased. Their desperation soon gave way into what could have been a battle for dominance - each fighting for the upper hand, each craving more of the other. 

_(More, more, more - it was even worse than his bingeing because there was simply no end to the skin he could taste, and Victor's mouth was much more delicious than any katsudon he'd tasted before, like spice and sugar - )_

He wasn't sure who started it first but eventually Yuuri's lips yielded to Victors - or was it the other way around? - and they were exploring each other on a whole different level, Victor's tongue dancing shyly aceoss his lower lip before Yuuri took control and nibbled gently on his lover's lower lip.

He could feel every spare inch of Victor's skin against his own as if it were scalding to the touch and he could hear Victor's heartbeat against his to create a symphony of fluttering wings bound to crash out of their damned chests.

Victor's hands had somehow come to rest on Yuuri's hips in the middle of it all and he was pulling him impossibly closer, his hands burning holes through the fabric that seemed to be nothing more than a hindrance to them both. First one finger, and then another darted under the soft material to skim across Yuuri's exposed stomach - 

and he had to pull away as a gasp escaped him much to his embarrassment - be it due to his need for air or the coldness of Victor's fingers, he didn't know, maybe both.

He could hear Victor's triumphant exhaled laugh against his neck even so and suddenly Victor's lips were on his skin again, trailing down his neck snd marking every inch as his own. Suddenly his tongue darted out, warm and wet against his skin, causing Yuuri to squirm.

_"V... Victor--!"_

His gasp was muffled into his own hand as he tried desperately to silence himself, which resulted in Victor  _tsk_ ing against him before suddenly sucking hard on the skin just above his collarbone, a rather cruel punishment.

Either way, Yuuri couldn't muffle the yelp of surprise that escaped him then, the pain making him writhe before Victor's tongue slipped between his teeth and soothed the surface of his attacked skin. Yuuri found himself enjoying the sensation a bit more than he logically should - 

 _(He still couldn't believe Victor was_ his _\- )_

and when Victor pulled away and released the skin with a soft, lewd noise Yuuri couldn't help but whine a little at the loss.

A pair of fingers came up to brush across Yuuri's cheekbone and thread themselves into his hair as Victor rose to be eye-to-eye with Yuuri who looked like a wreck, breathing hard and his body warm. 

_(God, Victor was so beautiful - his white skin was flushed in the silver moonlight and his lips were beautifully swollen from Yuuri's, there was a desperate and untamed look in his eyes that he himself had put there, and his hair - )_

Before Yuuri knew what he was doing he had subconsciously wound his own fingers into Victor's hair and held his head there gently, staring in awe at the beautiful man before him, and he couldn't breathe  _again_ because of how gorgeous Victor Nikiforov was against him, even when he was like this,  _wrecked_ , he was so ethereal.

_(But Yuuri decided then that ethereal was no longer a fitting word for Victor, because unlike before he was just within reach, he was Yuuri's and Yuuri was his and there was nothing fantastical at all about that, they had been created and fit solely for each other and nobody else and the realization made a stupid smile appear on his face.)_

"I love you," Yuuri said quietly.

"I know."

"Huh?" Yuuri's eloquence was once again ruthlessly put on display as his brow furrowed in confusion. Was Victor just being cocky? It didn't look like it, there was a rather earnest look in the man's eyes, but Yuuri watched with dismay as they slanted with mischief.

"You said it earlier." Victor winked as a strand of hair escaped Yuuri's loose fingers and fell over his face.

He started to untangle his fingers only for Victor to cover his hand with one of his own, begging him with his eyes to keep it there as he leaned slightly into the touch with a noise that was almost a  _purr_ when Yuuri gently massaged his scalp.

"I said... what?" 

Yuuri couldn't think past the distant, adoring look in Victor's eyes as he stared at him.

"You said you loved me," Victor reminded him, that breathy chuckle stealing rational thought from Yuuri's brain as he played idly with Victor's hair, running his fingers through it and touching the individual silvery strands -

_(They were even softer than he had even imagined, they spilled over his fingertips like water and his hair looked like jewels in the moonlight. He really was such a beautiful person, and the thought made Yuuri's heart ache.)_

"Oops." Yuuri laughed as he continued to stroke Victor's hair. Suddenly Victor's hand captured one of his own and before Yuuri could ask what was wrong Victor moved it to his lops pressed a kiss on his opened palm, eyes fluttering shut.

VIctor really was a picture of beauty, the blanket having fallen off of them a long time ago as they warmed each other up and it grew unnecessary, the moonlight making a luminscent halo surround his slender body and gorgeous hair. 

"I love you," Victor whispered into Yuuri's palm, making his face heat up. Victor nuzzled his cheek into Yuuri's hand adoringly. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

_(Yuuri was dizzy because he could feel it, he could feel Victor's love flowing from the his lips through his palm and into his veins and it made him feel weak, thank God they were lying down or Yuuri feared he might collapse. His heartbeat was exhausted from this constant racing but it was a beautiful feeling as well that he didn't want to end.)_

Before Victor could continue his mantra  _(as breathtakingly endearing as it was, Yuuri feared he wouldn't stop until Yuuri literally melted at his feet)_ Yuuri tilted Victor's head towards his own and brushed his lips across his beautiful soulmate's (the word made him shiver with delight), this time silencing  _him_ instead of the other way around.

"You are very flattering," Yuuri whispered against his lips, earning a slight tremble from Victor underneath him as he tried to stifle his laugh for Yuuri's sake.

"It isn't flattering," Victor insisted. His breath hitched in his throat as Yuri's lips explored his jaw and neck, brushing against his exposed collarbone. "It's the t-truth."

Yuuri paused in surprise.

He had made Victor stutter?  _Him?_

Before he could help himself Yuuri found himself giggling, desperately clinging to Victor as he shook from the impact of the rising laughs. Undoubtedly Victor was looking at him like he was crazy but eventually the man sighed and wound his arms around Yuuri's midsection and pulled him closer, burying his face in Yuuri's hair as he continued to giggle against Victor's chest.

"I worry for you sometimes," Victor admitted into his hair, teasing. 

"I know."

"You ruined a perfectly good makeout session with a case of the giggles," Victor said with a pout in his voice. Yuuri smiled against his chest, the words making his heart sing.

"Sorry. Next time?"

_(Shit, was he being too upfront, too bold? He immediately regretted it - )_

A featherlight kiss was pressed to hid hair that effectively silenced his panicked thoughts. 

"Next time," Victor hummed quietly in agreement.

_(And Yuuri never wanted to let him go - he wanted to hold him here forever and never wake up again.)_

_(He would be fine with that.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm BOOIII THIS ENDED UP BEING,,, A HELLA,, LOt,,, LONGER THAN I INTENDED WHAT HT EHECK??  
> me: im gonna write a bunch of cute oneshots n 1-5k word prompts  
> also me: writes a fucking monster 10429 au in an hour and a half  
> at this rate im going to explode and i was already halfway thru my secon d post.... im afraid, im very afraid of myself
> 
> ANYWAYS ENJOY!!!! i hope u guys enjoy this post of Feelios cause i sure did, also its totally unbetad and unedited so u guys r the lucky suckers who get to deal with my typos as i face my emotions at this election,,, and ive also had an unsafe amt of caffeine so its gonna be a wild ride. usually id edit but im buttfuck exhausteD?? BUT I NEEDED THE WORLD TO SEE THIS otherwise id forget and never post it hell
> 
> OH ONE MORE THING!!! i might add a second part to this au where theres some smushy shmut on another work if u guys r up for it B^3 lemme knwo what u think!!! peace babes, see ya in the next au!!


	2. Витя и виктор | Katsuki Yuuri x Victor Nikiforov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the new addition was not entirely unwelcome, Katsuki Yuuri found that he preferred dogs much more than he preferred cats. But if it was for Victor... he supposed he had no choice.
> 
>  
> 
> _(As it was with most things, Victor always won. Not because he was better, but simply because Yuuri didn't have it in him to make him lose.)_
> 
> unbetad & unedited b/c i keep writing these at four am jesus, enjoy!!

_"Yura! Idi syuda!"_

Being harshly awoken by the sound of the front door slammed off of its hinges was not Katuski Yuuri's ideal Sunday morning. He was exhausted, having drilled his body to its limit yesterday to earn a full break so graciously disposed on him by Victor.

Lately Victor had been a lot more intense in his practices - not that Yuuri had it in him to complain, especially with the way his coach's eyes glittered with pride every time Yuuri nailed a quadruple Salchow or perfectly executed a flip. 

When he was around Victor he was so malleable; his so-called iron will easily manipulated with just a smile or a wink. 

_(There were times where Yuuri felt he had no control over his mind, but he craved that feeling.)_

Yuuri managed to drag himself into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a sore arm. The bed was colder than usual, no thanks to the frigid February weather. Yuuri loved the winter, he truly did - but not just because he was a figure skater and the ice was like a second home to him.

He loved winter because it provided lazy mornings and warm scarves, the heat from a freshly brewed hot cocoa bleeding through his mittens on a cold morning, the nip of frost on his nose.

More than anything, though, Yuuri loved the winter because it was the season in which Victor looked most at home.

After Victor made the decision to stay with Yuuri (in Detroit no less) instead of going back to Russia, it was hard not to see the adoration in Victor's eyes when the snow fell. He was worried about how Victor would respond to the summer climate change.

Everything still felt like a dream as fragile as a sheet of ice - one misstep and this forged reality would shatter.

The door to his room was suddenly thrown open with a loud bang, causing Yuuri to cry out with surprise as light from outside flooded it. He preferred sleeping in the dark, but the rest of the house was enveloped in light - per Victor's choice.

He was hopeless arguing Victor's choices, but he didn't mind.

The man was like a whirlwind - resistence was futile. You were too busy trying to keep up to care about the casualties.

" _Victor_ , it is really too early for this...!" Yuuri's complaint was muffled into the sheets as he sank under them, hiding from the rays of sunlight. _He bursts into my room so casually, like he owns it... yeesh._

"Nonsense, _Yura!_  It's well past eleven," said the man smugly as he sat down on the edge of Yuuri's bed, the mattress creaking under the added weight. "I might have worked you harder than usual yesterday, but this is ridiculous."

"Mmmf." 

"What was that?"

"Mm...f. F.. ss." 

Suddenly the blanket was pulled away from his face and light flooded his vision. Victor's head quickly replaced that light, hovering over him silhouetted by the light around them. His eyes were clear and bright - painful to look at as always.

Victor was so beautiful that it hurt from the bottom of Yuuri's gut. He sometimes dared to say he was getting used to it until he was blown away once again by Victor's sharp features, his brilliant eyes, his charming smile. It was as if God had been trying to send Yuuri into cardiac arrest on a daily basis when he made him.

" _Dobraye utra, Yura~_ " he purred, his Russian seeming to spill from his lips like honey in a way that made heat flash up Yuuri's spine. " _Kohrosho-li ty spal nochyu?_ "

In spite of the clouds encasing his mind at how _sexy_  Victor made himself sound, Yuuri put a wobbling pout on his lips and avoided his gaze.

"I've told you a million times, to not speak in Russian...," Yuuri said, putting on a façade of indignance. "I feel out of the loop when you do that."

_(No matter how delicious it sounded coming from Victor's lips.)_

"Ahaha. Sorry," Victor said, though he didn't even look slightly apologetic about it. "I can't help myself, you always get this crease in your forehead - "

Victor suddenly pressed a cool finger between his eyes with a sly smile -

"and it's quite adorable."

Yuuri felt like every spare inch of his skin was on fire, his forehead especially. Victor did not move his finger and instead left it resting there innocuously, even though it set Yuuri's heartrate off the charts.

_(He knew he was being played with but he didn't know whether or not he hated it.)_

"Adorable," Yuuri echoed, his forehead creasing even more in confusion and earning a soft, low chuckle from Victor that seemed to shake the bed.

"Quite." Victor's fingertip brushed down his nose before resting on his lips, touch light as a feather. "Take a guess at what I said."

Yuuri couldn't think with Victor this close, with his finger resting against his mouth. He could only stare up at him blankly, which earned him a soft laugh that was music to his ears.

In spite of himself, his eyes fluttered shut as Victor's finger brushed across his lips, light and playful. His mouth parted against his will to take a tremulous breath.

Suddenly the weight on him disappeared and the linger of Victor's touch was left bare and exposed. Yuuri's eyes flicked open again to find Victor leaning back on his haunches with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

_(Yuuri was familiar with that smile, it meant he was hiding something. But what?)_

Taken aback, Yuuri propped himself back up (albeit with a few sore winces at the soreness) and rested his weight on his elbows, gazing at Victor inquisitively.

"Ahaha~" Was it just him or was Victor's laugh a little wobblier than usual? "It's too early for this.... Anyways, have you got a guess yet?"

"A... guess?" 

_(Talking to Victor always gave him a sense of whiplash from the constant jumping around.)_

"Yes," Victor said with a breathy laugh. "As to what I said in Russian."

"I don't speak Russian." Yuuri's face morphed into a tired pout. "Like I said - "

"Yes, yes, I've heard it a dozen times." Victor waved him off without meeting his eyes, a smile flirting on his lips. "But don't you at least want to guess?"

"Oh, I'm sure it was somethig dirty." Yuuri scoffed even though his heartrate sped up at the thought of Victor saying things like that to him, Russian or English.

" _Chto?_ " For a moment Victor's eyes were blown wide with disbelief. "Yeesh... you must not take me for a very honorable man. If I were going to talk dirty to you I would do it in a language you understood so it wasn't lost on you."

Victor winked, and Yuuri felt like he was on the edge of collapse, his elbows shaking slightly to support himself.

"Th - That's beyond the point." Yuuri scowled as much as he could, unwilling to be deterred by Victor's cutesy behavior. "Either way, I can't fathom what you would say to me. Maybe it was just nonsense."

Victor laughed, a true laugh then, as he leaned over Yuuri again and pushed him flat against the mattress, swallowing up any idea of personal space. Suddenly the room felt a whole lot warmer with Victor's palms pressed up beside his head and their noses inches apart.

Victor's eyes shone down at Yuuri through silvery lashes.

"I said good morning. _Dobraya utra_ ," he said in a smoky voice. "Ah. And I also asked if you slept well...  _Kohrosho-li ty spal nochyu_."

"Oh." Yuuri wondered if he sounded as breathless as he felt - he couldn't hear past his heart crashing in his chest. "W - Well, I slept... well. I don't remember much except for you crashing into the house five minutes ago."

"Oh!" Suddenly Victor's eyes widened as he reached down in a swift movement and intertwined their fingers as if it were the most natural thing, raising them up above Yuuri's head. Victor's whole body was flush against his at this point, and Yuuri was hyper aware of every inch.

"I almost forgot." Victor dropped his chin on Yuuri's chest, his voice rumbling throughout his whole body. "I have a surprise for us."

If there was one thing that Yuuri had learned while being beside Victor, it was that he never used the world surprise lightly. He immediately found himself even more anxious than before as he glanced down at the silver-haired man, instinctively tightening his grip on Victor's fingers.

"Why does that make me anxious?"

"You don't like my surprises, _kotyonok?_ " It was Victor's turn to pout, his flushed lover lip poking out just enough to make Yuuri want to catch it between his own.

_(He was in far too deep. Falling in love with Victor was like a hurricane meeting forces with a volcano.)_

"It's n - not," Yuuri hesitated to catch his breath and look away from those inviting lips. "It's not that I don't like them...."

Victor hummed in his chest and it echoed across Yuuri's torso. He inched upwards until his chin was right on Yuuri's collarbone.

Victor's breath fluttering across his skin was making him delirious.

"Then would you like me to keep surprising you?" Victor's lips brushed against Yuuri's chin when he spoke. "It's only fair when you keep pulling the upper hand on me."

"What are you talking ab - about?" Yuuri felt like his head was in the clouds and he was gasping through thin air. 

"You." Victor turned his head and his lips curved into a smile against Yuuri's skin. "You never fail to keep me on my toes. I love it."

It was funny how his mind twisted those words to _I love you_  even when that wasn't what he said at all, but he let the searing heat nestle itself in his stomach anyways. It was a pleasant feeling.

"Me, too," Yuuri breathed before he realized what he was saying, and almost immediately he moved to cover his mouth with his hand, only to realize his was still interlocked with Victor's, so instead his lips met Victor's hand instead.

_Oh...._

Yuuri would have ripped his hand away in a heartbeat if it hadn't been for the way Victor's breath hitched just a little bit at the contact. He _swore_  that Victor's heartbeat picked up a little bit - he could feel it against his skin - and it gave him just enough courage to let his lips linger there on Victor's hand, still tightly bound in his own.

" _Ahaha..._  this is exactly what I mean." Victor turned his head more so that whenever he spoke his lips ghosted over Yuuri's exposed collarbone. "You keep doing things I'd never expect."

"Do you mind?" Even though Yuuri had been trying to be cool, his voice wavered just a bit on the last word as he spoke into their intertwined hands.

_(His anxiety always got the better of him.)_

"Do I mind...?" Victor's voice was a thoughtful hum. The lack of an immediate answer made Yuuri's nerves spike.

The silver-haired man suddenly moved forward, and before Yuuri had time to panic he felt the soft press of Victor's lips on the back of his own hand - the same one intertwined with Victor's he still had pressed against his mouth.

Yuuri felt all the blood drain from his face as Victor's eyes closed and his silver lashes brushed against the pale skin under them. Just to have him so close, to have only their hands separating their lips, made Yuuri's heartrate go off the charts.

Just as quickly as they came, Victor's lips left his hand and he hovered over Yuuri with eyes glittering with amusement. However, it seemed almost smoky in Victor's eyes, a sultry expression that made Yuuri's breath hitch.

"I don't mind at all, _kobuta-chan._ " Victor's tongue rolled over the Japanese nickname like honey. "I crave it."

Victor had swept off of the bed before Yuuri could reply and in that swift movement, dragged Yuuri up with him. He stumbled forward at the sudden pull but Victor kept him steady by winding an arm around his shoulders.

"This is a friendly reminder that you do have legs," Victor teased as Yuuri tried to regain his thoughts - and balance. "And that you're welcome to use them."

Yuuri gave an uneasy laugh, subconsciously melting into Victor's side even when he found his feet. Feeling daring, he slipped an arm around Victor's thin waist, his fingers slipping just below the hem of his lavender shirt.

Okay, so he was definitely _not_ imagining the way Victor's breath caught that - or the way he shifted slightly to try to escape Yuuri's fingers. 

Stifling a smirk, Yuuri firmly kept his grasp, his fingers pressed against the skin of Victor's bare hip almost punishingly. 

_(He loved those little moments where he had the upper hand on Victor - but they never lasted long.)_

And sure enough, the arm around his shoulders shifted slightly as Victor bent his head down so that his mouth hovered just below Yuuri's ear.

 _"You're teasing, Yura~"_  he whispered playfully, lips ghosting across Yuuri's nape.

That was enough to make Yuuri's iron grip slip just enough for his fingers to slide out from under Victor's shirt. A laugh rumbled in Victor's chest as he pressed a featherlight kiss to Yuuri's neck.

" _Blin,_  I'll forget my surprise at this rate!" Victor removed his mouth from Yuuri's personal space - much to his relief and chagrin - to pull him forward. "Honestly. I went through all this trouble, too."

"You're being rather cryptic, Victor," Yuuri murmured, glancing towards him uneasily. "What's this surprise really?"

Victor hummed with a grin as he pulled Yuuri into the living room, where he indicated to the couch. Yuuri struggled to focus his blurry vision - which was difficult without his glasses in the light filled room - as Victor grabbed Yuuri's hand and dropped a small metal object in it.

"The surprise actually came from Yurio, of all people," Victor said as Yuuri began to comprehend the object resting on the couch and the one in his hand. "He's going go be busy practicing this winter with a coach in France, so he trusted me with her."

"Victor, is that...." Yuuri's words lodged in his throat with disbelief as the man moved forward to unzip the expensive-looking carrier.

His fears were confirmed the instant that Victor reached in and retrieved a small ashen ball of fur from the carrier and pulled it to his chest affectionately.

"You see," Victor continued in a singsong, "Yurio's precious cat snuck out and found herself a lover while he was at the Grand Prix. This little _kotyonok_  is the runt of the litter and the only one he couldn't find a home for."

"Victor...." 

Victor lifted the cat in the air and gazed at it with unadulterated affection, ignoring Yuuri's shock.

"Welcome to our family, _kotyonok_!"

Yuuri stared down at the smooth, un-engraved tag in his palm in horror as realization hit him like a truck going eighty on the freeway - _Victor had adopted a cat._  Not just for himself, but for them both to _raise together_. Almost as if it were a...

Yuuri violently shook his head. Now was not the time for thoughts of how nice itnwould be to have a family with a man to whom the closest he had come to kissing was through both of their intertwined hands less than five minutes ago.

_(Nonetheless, he thought dryly, Victor had surely trumped him this time with his surprises.)_

* * *

They ended up naming the fuzzy hellion _Vitya._  It had been a grueling decision, made after three painful hours arguing over three cups too little of coffee. 

Victor had initially wanted to call it _kobuta-chan_ , or little piggy, or _katsudon_. Yuuri had shut him down almost immediately - mostly at the thought of being replaced by such a foul creature.

After that Victor straight up tried to call the kitten _Yuuri_  or _Yura_  and needless to say, that had gone very poorly. It ended with a rather embarassing admittance of feeling replaced by a kitten that seemed to humor Victor more than Yuuri would have appreciated.

It was then that Victor dared to bring up Yuuri naming his own dog after the man himself.

 _"Th - That's different!"_ he'd sputtered in response, trying to hide his embarassment. _"Back then, you were basically an unreachable god to me, so...."_

It had taken about a flat three seconds for that to turn Victor into a complete, and total, _narcissist._  His ego seemed to make the rest of the room shrink.

 _"A god, huh?" "What am I to you now,_ Yura _?" "Did I have my own shrine...?"_

Which led to about a half hour of screwing around before finally getting back to the point when they were both gasping for air, tangled up in the duvet on the couch from roughhousing over who was the most godlike.

_(Having a straight conversation with Victor was impossible but he loved that about him.)_

Finally they returned to the topic of names, with Victor stretched across the couch as if he were a spoiled cat himself. His head rested in Yuuri's lap and the latter found himself winding his fingers through the soft silver hair of his coach, noting how long it was getting.

He wondered if Victor would let him cut it.

He wondered also if he wanted him to cut it.

"What about _Vitya?_ " The words seemed to fall out of Victor's mouth - moments ago he could have convinced Yuuri he was asleep, but now those brilliant turquoise eyes were peering up at him inquisitively.

Yuuri's fingers halted their steady strokes in confusion. " _Vitya_? Isn't that was Yakov called you?"

"Not just him, other people too. My parents did." Victor never offered much on his family and likewise he kept his mention brief, his expression distant. "It's the Russian diminuitive for Victor. Like how you call Miss Nishigori _Yuu-chan_ , sort of. It's a nickname."

" _Vitya_ ," Yuuri echoed softly, trying it out. Below him, Victor blinked, his eyes widening. "What?"

"Ah, _nichyevo._ But I think it would be nice to hear you say that more often." Victor flashed a brilliant smile that made Yuuri have to glance away.

"Somehow I feel like your ego has a lot to do with this...," Yuuri muttered.

A warm hand cupped his face and pulled Yuuri back to face him. Victor was smiling up at him, some of his hair falling over his eyes. Subconsciously, his thumb slid across Yuuri's cheek.

"So what if it is?" Victor's voice was a bit huskier than usual and it made Yuuri shiver. "I like hearing you say it. Your accent is cute."

Yuuri was pretty sure his face put a tomato to shame, but he didn't care. He hid his face in Victor's palm, making an effort to plant a light kiss there just to throw Victor off.

"Fine," he mumbled into Victor's hand.

"Can't hear you when you mutter, _Yura~_ " Victor's voice was a little shaky and it made him smirk just a little.

"I said, you're am egoist and a narcissist and if it'll really make you happy to have a kitten named after you just so you can hear me say your nickname, then... fine." 

He dared a glance after Victor and saw him frowning a little bit to himself. Yuuri turned his head and touched the corner of Victor's mouth questioningly. "What's the matter? You know I was kidding, right?"

"It's not that," Victor hummed softly, reaching up to grab the hand at his mouth and play with Yuuri's fingers idly. "Hm. It might sound weird, but now that I've heard you say it I kind of want to keep it to myself. It seems wrong to share it with a cat."

Yuuri grinned.

"It's too late."

Victor blinked owlishly at him, spreading Yuuri's fingers out to peer up between them. "Come again?"

"It's too late to change your mind," Yuuri said matter-of-factly, a smirk playing at his lips. "We already unanimously decided on a name. The decision's been made."

Victor sat up indignantly but Yuuri held him down by reclaiming his hand and pressing it against Victor's mouth.

"Shh," Yuuri said teasingly, enjoying the way Victor's eyes widened a bit. "Wouldn't want to wake up _Vitya_ , would we?"

Victor whined a bit under his palm, clearly annoyed by the nickname stolen from him, but to be fair he had taken it away from himself so Yuuri couldn't feel too bad. Feeling brave, he bent over Victor and pressed a kiss to the back of the hand between their faces.

"I win this one," Yuuri stated proudly as he pulled away. However, before he could feel too proud of himself Victor snatched the hand on his mouth and brushed his lips across Yuuri's palm softly.

"You'd better sleep with one eye open, _Yura,_ " Victor purred, glancing up at him through his lashes. "You're playing a dangerous game."

_(And Yuuri knew he wasn't just talking about the cat's namesake this time.)_

* * *

_"I can't find Vitya!"_

Victor was screaming loud enough to wake up the whole neighborhood, and that was quite a reach considering they lived in an apartment. Their 'neighborhood' was basically the entirety of Detroit.

Still, by the time Yuuri was fully conscious and registering the words Victor was howling (at least, the ones in English, since most of it was frantic Russian) he had lost enough reason to care about something so minute.

It had been a month since they adopted Vitya - time both sped forwards relentlessly and dragged its feet like a petulant toddler. February breezed by like a flurry and left behind a frigid and unwelcoming Michigan ice sheet that made the air hard to breathe.

Along with it all, Victor had caught a cold. 

Victor was never sick, at least in the time Yuuri had known him (and the articles he pored never mentioned so much as the occasional sneeze). But as soon as the weather shifted from frosty to stagnant cold Victor seemed to wither like a dying flower of the winter.

Of course that might have had something to do with how _overdramatic_  he was. Every day it was _"could you get me a heat pad, I'm so sore I can barely move"_  or _"come warm me up, Yura"_  or _"cook me something to soothe my tummy"_. Yuuri felt like a housemaid.

That said, Victor was a very generous person with gratitude. Every time Yuuri succumbed and crawled into Victor's bed so that the other could curl around him like a vise he was gifted with butterfly kisses scattered along the nape of his neck.

And he was also given the pleasure of hearing Victor talk in his sleep.

It started out soft and nonsensical, most of it just mumbled Russian phrases, but as Victor's deathlike grip on him eased a bit it became slurred English purred into his ear in a pitch dark room - things like _"my Yura"_ or _"mm... kobuta..chan... vk... usno"_  that set his face aflame. He knew enough Russian to interpret some of the nonsense and hearing Victor mumble on and on about _borsch_  was a gift in and of itself.

There was only one time that Victor had something like a night terror, but it wasn't filled with screaming. Yuuri wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the way Victor suddenly pulled Yuuri to his chest in a bone-crushing grip. For a moment Yuuri thought he'd woken up, but no amount of struggling or complaining earned a response, and then he'd felt something hot and wet slide down his cheek and he'd realized that Victor was crying.

Yuuri could now say from experience that nothing in this world was more painful than watching somebody as beautiful and pure as Victor Nikiforov cry in his sleep.

His whole face had contorted into an ugly scowl and his body seemed to shake with the weight of his sobs. When Yuuri reached up to brush the tears away lightly Victor grabbed his hand and refused to let him go until the cries suddenly cut off and Victor relaxed like he'd been sedated, fingers springing free to let Yuuri's bruised ones breathe again.

Yuuri would have thought he had imagined it all if it weren't for those bruises, though. He made sure to hide them from Victor - he had a feeling that was a part of him he didn't want to expose so he kept quiet until Victor mentioned it himself.

Yuuri had forgotten it pretty quickly when Victor woke up and immediately started lazily painting kisses along his collarbone.

_(Sometimes Yuuri questioned how in the hell they could so casually do these things when neither admitted to their feelings.)_

In the middle of it all, Vitya had suddenly taken on a rebellious kitten phase, if such a thing were to exist. Yuuri wasn't wholly surprised: her mother had been raised by the picture of teen angst, after all. It was probably just mimicry, or genetic, or something. 

But having to clean cat urine off lampshades and constantly chase the hellion down the halls was getting exhausting (especially when aforementioned hellion wasn't exactly _permitted_  in their residency, a fact Victor either overlooked or was deliberately ignorant of). Coupled with Victor's complaining and miserable behavior, Yuuri felt more like a flustered hen than an actual human being.

Along with that, Victor was being _needlessly_  (and _excessively_ ) clingy with the kitten lately. At first Yuuri was more than glad to let the bitching furball stroke Victor's violent need for attention, but as time passed and Victor stopped asking him to sleep next to him in exchange for Vitya's company, he grew more agitated.

_(He refused to accept the fact that he was jealous of a four month old kitten.)_

It only got worse when Victor started cooing Vitya's name in his naps instead of Yuuri's, or when he would cover the kitten in affectionate nuzzles and kisses. The first time Yuuri caught him curled up with Vitya snuggled into his chest Yuuri had flat out snapped the wooden spoon he was holding.

_(There was absolutely no way he was envious of a cat.)_

Over time it seemed more and more like the two were plotting against him. Victor would start to feel better for a few hours before bed and there were a few rare moment where they could play around (not in _that sense_ , if only frustratingly so for Yuuri) before they resorted to the usual position of Victor curled up in his lap while Yuuri played with his ever-growing hair. 

But then, as if Satan himself was lashing out for Yuuri's selfish desire to have Victor to himself, Vitya would show up, all innocent mews and purrs. And no matter what Yuuri did he couldn't get Victor to focus on him, which eventually led to him third-wheeling as Victor fell asleep in his lap while Vitya leered at him victoriously in his arms.

So. Needless to say, Yuuri wasn't exactly bouncing on his toes when he was ripped into consciousness by Victor's howls. He almost wanted to pass it off as sleep talking, since Victor was definitely strange enough to sleep scream, and made a mental note to apologize to the landlord later.

But after fifteen minutes of crashing around, distressed cries, and what sounded suspiciously like muffled weeping, Yuuri dragged his corpse out of bed and practically crawled out of his room to face whatever hell was being raised outside his door.

He was met with Victor suddenly springing forward and wrapping himself around Yuuri, burying his face in his neck and letting out a shaky cry. Yuuri's eyes widened as he felt a familiar hot trail of tears running down his shoulder and then his back. Yuuri immediately wound his arms around Victor's midsection protectively.

"Victor...? What's wrong?"

"It's horrible," Victor gasped into his collar. "I've looked everywhere, but there's nothing...! After all I've done for her...."

Yuuri's brow furrowed in confused as he pushed Victor away slightly. "What the heck are you talking about?"

" _Vitya!_ " Victor's voice was the epitome of distressed and when he finally pulled back enough for Yuuri to see his face he saw tears falling from worried blue eyes. It wasn't an ugly cry like before but it hurt to look at either way.

"You're crying...," Yuuri murmured under his breath, partially out of disbelief and partially out of worry. Had his cold turned into a fever somehow and made him delirious? There was no way Vitya could have escaped since nobody left the apartment.

"Are you sure she isn't just hiding?" Yuuri tried his best to be calm for Victor, reaching up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. It was strange seeing Victor look so distraught, he hadn't seen him look so worried since when he had left Maccachin at Hasetsu when they moved to Detroit.

" _Da,_  I've looked everywhere, like I said. _Ya ni panimaju!_ " Victor broke off into a string of anxious Russian and Yuuri had to forcibly shake him out of it.

"Victor, first, please stop with this Russian, it's not getting us anywhere." Yuuri had switched into mother mode, it seemed - a mode he didn't even know he _had_  and likely had to thank Victor and that damn hellion cat for. "Have you left the apartment today?"

Victor shook his head solemnly, still sniffling.

"Then how would she have escaped?"

"The window...," Victor mumbled as he stared at his shoes. "I opened the window to my room last night because I was cold and I forgot to close it and she snuck into my room and-"

Yuuri quickly pressed two fingers to Victor's lips to shut him up. Even in this situation, though, it was hard to ignore how soft they were, even though they trembled with emotion.

"Shh." Yuuri removed his fingers (albeit unwillingly) and placed his hands on Victor's shoulders. "I'll go outside and look for her, okay? But I need you to try and pick up the mess you just made."

_(He really didn't want to look at the chaos Victor had wreaked in his fervent search.)_

Victor blinked at him with owlish, teary eyes. "But...?"

"No buts, Victor. If you go outside you'll only get sicker so don't even ask - "

"I'm not sick!" Victor's protest was followed by a loud sneeze that Yuuri was saved from in the nick of time by sidestepped and avoiding the blow. "I was responsible so - "

"First of all, you're _not_  responsible, that cat has been trying to run away for days, and she brought it on herself. Second of all, I shouldn't even have to argue what you said first since I just narrowly avoided getting your germs all over my face."

"But _Yura_....!" Victor's voice dropped from pleading to a desperate beg. "Please, _Yura_ , I can't sit by while you go out alone in the cold this early in the morning. If you get sick there'll be nobody to make me soup, or keep me warm, or pet my hair...."

"I mean, you were doing fine without me ever si - " Yuuri cut his mutter off short before he dove into further dangerous territory and fixed Victor with a cold stare. "I said no and I mean it. I won't die for going in the cold for ten minutes unlike some Russians who have a specific preference of _cold_. I spent an entire season in Detroit anyways."

"... _Yura_ , what do you mean I was doing fine? Were you... are you jealous of t - "

" _Vitya._ "

It's a last resort and Yuuri''s more than aware of it, but there is _no way in hell_  he will admit to being jealous of a hairball-spitting hellion. No. Way. In. Hell.

The reaction isn't immediate - Victor blinks a little bit in confusion and tips his head, opens his mouth to ask what he meant, but Yuuri cuts him off by grabbing him by the elbows and pulling him close enough that they're sharing the same breath.

"You are staying in here, _Vitya._  Do I make myself clear?" Yuuri's voice is low and reaches out to Victor, desperately pulling from his own so-called _eros_. He even goes so far as to lick his lips slightly.

Suddenly Victor goes stiff beneath him, his breath catching in his throat. Hooded cerulean eyes cling to him before dropping to his wetted lips. Yuuri doesn't miss the way Victor shivers a little under his touch and leans just a little bit forward. 

Their noses brush and Yuuri moves forward until their foreheads are pressed together and he's eye to eye with his coach for once.

"Did you hear me, or would you like for me to repeat it?"

Before Yuuri can say anything he's suddenly being pushed back into his own room and through the door. He lets out a muffled sound of protest that's cut short when Victor turns him around and nudges the door shut with a foot before closing in on Yuuri.

" _Victor_ , what - "

"Say it again," Victor orders lowly, his husky voices entirely different from the pleading pitch it was before. He still sounds desperate but in a totally different manner.

"This isn't the time for _games_ , you just said - "

"Don't care. Made it up." With every word Victor steps closer and Yuuri steps back until he feels the wood of the door caging him in. His breathing is ragged. "Cat's in my room. Say it again, _Yura._ "

The nickname seems a lot less innocent when he says it that way, with his voice practically a growl in his chest. Victor's hands rest on either side of his head and any space between their bodies evaporates all too quickly for Yuuri to keep up with.

"Wait - what do you mean you m - made it up, you said - "

"I made it up because I was lonely and you've been avoiding me all week," Victor explains, each word rushed and impatient, clipped at the ends. His Russian accent is thicker than usual, making his hard k's a lot sexier than they usually are, and Yuuri can feel his state of mind growing increasingly more feeble as the seconds pass.

"A...voiding you? No - if anything else it's the other way - "

Victor laughs, and he's so close that Yuuri can feel it against his own chest. A playful yet shadowed smile teases Victor's lips. "So you were jealous of the cat, then?"

Yuuri starew at him blankly before shaking his head violently, so hard that his glasses fall right off of his nose and onto the floor. Victor is close enough that he's in full focus, though. 

" _Chigau_ _!_ " His voice is loud enough to make even himself cringe a little. "No - that's not it...."

"You're such a bad liar, Yuuri," Victor scolds, though his voice lilts on playful. Soon his smirk smokes over again and Yuuri is left with that same sensation of whiplash as Victor leans close and presses his lips against Yuuri's forehead.

_(Oh no, he can't think anymore, he can't even remember his own name.)_

_"Say it again,_ Yura _."_  Victor whispers against his skin, lips just brushing the surface. It semds goosebumps up his arms. 

"I don't - "

Victor's lips leave his forehead and his vision is filled with the man glaring at him with a slight pout on his face. Victor's hands tangle in Yuuri's hair and pull him closer. 

" _Yura._  Don't give me what I want and I won't give you what you want."

_How does he know what I want if I don't know myself?_

"As if you don't want the same thing." A smirk curves his lip and it causes Victor to blink slightly in surprise, taken aback.

_Oh._

Thank God for those _eros_  lessons... it appears they're actually useful after all. He meets Victor's gaze steadily before closing the small distance between them and whispering against his lips - 

_"Give it to me, Vitya."_

Victor is frozen underneath him for a time that seems to stretch for hours and a nagging thread of anxiety dares to tug at his confidence, chewing at his sanity. If he went too far, if Victor was really only playing with him -

 _"Ti sahmiy krahseeviy,"_  Victor gasps against his mouth.

Whatever semblance of rational thought Yuuri is still managing to cling to takes a nosedive the moment that Victor kisses him - it's almost like every single nerve in his body is replaced with living electricity and he is hyperaware of everything, of Victor's hands - one in his hair and the other gripping his waist and tugging him closer - and of Victor's mouth as gently tugs on Yuuri's lip with his tweth, unwilling to waste time woth pleasantries.

Yuuri doesn't blame him - they've been playing this back-and-forth game of cat and mouse for far too long. His body craves Victor like an addict craves nicotine, and now that he has it there's no limit to what he can take, no rational thought telling him to hold back.

At first it's awkward and it has a lot to do with Yuuri's inexperience, and teeth click for a struggle of dominance before instinct kicks in and he yields to Victor's lips, releases a shaky moan into the other's mouth as Victor's tongue gently pries his mouth open and he relaxes against him.

"You're so good," Victor says shakily as they part for a few desperate gasps of air, the room at a boiling point as Yuri wraps his arms around Victor's neck and presses their foreheads together. 

"I can do better," Yuuri offers in between pants, his voice sounding breathy and _lewd_  even to himself. Fortunately it only seems to pique Victor's interest as the grip on his waist impossibly tightens more, shredding the space invading _them_. 

" _Da...,"_ Victor murmurs as he leans down and presses his lips to Yuuri's again. "Then why don't you show me, _kotyonok?"_

Yuuri stiffens a bit at the pet name and leans back a bit, glaring at Victor through his lashes and earning a low laugh from the older man as he concedes.

"Alright, alright, I'll stick to _Yura._ " Victors steals another kiss and lingers there, just enjoying the taste of each other, before smiling against Yuuri's mouth. "Maybe I should give the cat back to Yurio, hm?"

"Why?"

Yuuri doesn't even really register what Victor's saying, he's too distracted by the way Victor presses against him and slowly pushes him towards the bed. His knees hit the mattress and he willingly falls back as Victor climbs over him and peppers kisses along his exposed stomach and nudges his shirt up.

"Don't really need her anymore," Victor laughs against Yuuri's belly, making him shiver and redden in embarassment. 

"Need her? But I thought - _ahh,_ " Yuuri is cut off as Victor's lips brush along the sensitive skin along his stomach and navel.

"I was mostly using her to make you jealous," Victor admits huskily, his warm breath making Yuuri's stomach stir as he continues his ministrations, kissing every visible inch of his skin as a smoldering pace. "Besides, he found her a new home. They're going to give her a new name, too, they even... picked it out."

"Hm. Well - " Yuuri gasps as Victor drags his tongue along his skin before taking a steadying breathing, " - I was never j - jealous of a cat anyways."

"Ahaha, whatever you say, _Yura..._ " Victor smiles against his stomach before lifting himself up to Yuuri's level and kissing him lightly. "Whatever you say." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sincerely hope im giving u guys blueballs. or bluevags or something. i keep ending on could-be-but-isnt-quite-smut n im not even sorry LOL
> 
> that said!! hope u enjoyed this fuckn beast of a meme. i love these two so much its killin me, episode 7 made me rly question who was In Charge here so i decided to say fuck it n do both, let ur eros shine babe 
> 
> comment n kudos if ya liked it!! speaking of the comments on the last chapter left me in tears, u guys r so sweet i cannot express my love. thank u so much for the feedback!! i know i promised soul crushing but i figured id give u all a break. im 5k into the soul crusher so dont worry its coming!! sorry for the delays between chapters LOL!! i wont have all twelve done by november tho, but theyre longer than expected so im p contento with that
> 
> thanks for reading loves~!  
> OO one more thing: i was considering doing a minami x yurio oneshot chap just because!! its one of those uve nevr met in canon but if u did you would be hella gay for each other things n im just obsessed with them both, i crave their personalities my chikdren  
> anyways if u have any prompts u wanna give for them id be happy to fill them!! or for any pairing really id love to give it a shot B) hmu @ thanks4thememeories.tumblr.com if u wanna drop prompts there too!


	3. Interstellar | Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he made love to Yuuri, Victor saw stars - an entire galaxy etched upon his skin, marks made by every scrape of his teeth and every press of his fingers. Yuuri's skin was a blank canvas begging to be painted on, and he couldn't help but fill every spare inch with proof of his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for nongraphic smut and good stuff like that. basically just a feelsy explosion of feels so enjoy!! many thanks to the person who went out of their way to edit this for me, i really appreciate it!!

When put on a broad spectrum, there were three different ways in which Victor had sex with Yuuri.   
  
The first was raw.   
  
It was desperate: two animalistic beings seeking solace in one another, stripping down barriers like emotions and insecurities like they were made of paper. It went on for little more than an hour or so, but it felt like it lasted days.    
  
It was a searing heat, begging for the taste of each other's skin. Their sex was starved, each tearing and ripping and devouring until there was simply nothing left but exhaustion.   
  
_ (They craved the burn.) _ _   
_   
This version was perhaps the most violent: it was also living proof that Yuuri Katsuki was much stronger than Victor understood him to be. His stamina, for sure, was excellent, but it was during this kind of writhing entanglement that he realized Yuuri was no paper flower at risk of tearing.    
  
Yuuri was made of steel, and when they had sex like that, where bodies were inconvenient and skin had no barrier, he was molten to the touch. He consumed everything around him, including Victor himself, his eyes leaving scorch marks wherever they touched, his fingers digging incisions with the lightest of touches.   
  
The first time they'd ever had sex like that was after the China Cup, and it was also where Yuuri learned for the first time of just how filthily greedy his lover could be.    
  
There had been absolutely no room for speaking the moment that the door to their shared hotel room was shut - the tension pulled tight like an abused rubber band, and it wept at the edges, heartbeats from snapping.    
  
The moment that Victor stole his lips, that rubber band did not just snap - it shattered like glass. There was nothing that Yuuri could do to console Victor: the Russian's hands were on every inch of his body, searing hot and leaving trails of burns. His mouth was no kinder - by the time Victor's released his, Yuuri's mouth was swollen and bruised.   
  
Everywhere that the Swiss competitor, Christophe, had touched received the most abuse. Where his hand had trailed invasively upon Yuuri's bottom was now littered with marks - the pressure of Victor's hands, his mouth, marking every last inch of Yuuri as his own territory.   
  
_ (Nobody could touch the one person who belonged solely to him.) _ _   
_   
Yuuri should have been scared to discover that side of Victor - the part of him that was selfish and cruel and possessive. It was a raw exposure of human nature, a disgusting display of Victor's intolerance.   
  
But perhaps it was because Yuuri was just as selfish that he found himself enjoying this newfound side of his lover.   
  
He wanted to be scarred and marked by Victor. He wanted for there to be no room between them for the smallest of air particles to seep into, he willed for the space to evaporate and for there to just be skin upon skin, the blazing heat.    
  
He wanted this side of Victor all to himself. When Victor dug his nails into his ribs and fucked him so hard he couldn't use his legs, Yuuri didn't want anybody else to see. Those eyes, clear as the sky was blue, now molten with fury and lust - he wanted them on nobody but him.   
  
_ (What had he said then? "Don't ever take your eyes off of me.") _ _   
_   
He meant it.   
  
He wanted Victor only to himself... and in that sense he was even more greedy.   
  
So instead of shying away from the animalistic and jealous side of Victor, Yuuri met him halfway. For every bruise painted on his skin, Yuuri drew glaring red lines down his muscled back. When Victor kissed his skin hard enough to draw blood with his teeth, Yuuri stole that mouth with his own and cut into his lip slightly with his teeth - not deep, but enough as a reminder.   
  
Just as Victor wanted to mark every inch of him as his own, Yuuri craved to prove his existence as well. He left no room for questioning - and the next day, when they both showed up to the free skate with purpling bruises neither had the decency or will to hide, their point was made.   
  
Though Yuuri's makeup artists screamed endless streams of profanity at him for his marks -   
  
_ ("the amount of foundation we had to use was ridiculous! It barely does the job, what did you do, sleep with a rabid bear?") _ _   
_   
\- he found that the stunned look in Christophe's eyes when he saw them was worth it.    
  
He should've known better than to touch the property of world-famous Russian figure skater Victor Nikiforov in the first place. But he sure as hell knew now.   
  
Victor discovered the second type of sex the first time they had been sexually involved. Perhaps it would have made more sense to list it first yet at the same time the first kind was so violent, so upfront that it seemed almost wrong to include it as an afterthought.   
  
This kind of sex was exploratory. Each one trying to get a feel for every last inch of the other. It was not necessarily awkward, though it had been the first time: tongues thick and stuttering, _ "Is this okay?" "Should I stop?" _ , hands light and uncertain.   
  
But the more comfortable that they got with each other, the more different this type of sex became. It was no longer just a familiarization with the outside layers of each other. It became much different, much deeper than that.   
  
_ (To put it crudely, it was a discovery of all the uncommon things that made a thrill race up the other's spine just thinking about it.) _ _   
_   
At first it had been considerate and gentle. Victor asking Yuuri a hundred times over if he wanted this, if he wanted to stop, how he felt. So many questions and so many uncertain answers. Little mistakes - too fast, too hard, too slow - until a steady rhythm was found, a middle ground.   
  
Once they had found those boundaries, though, they began to push them. And once again it was a discovery of how the other wanted to be handled, to be treated. They found out more about each other in this sex than they did outside of it.   
  
For example, Yuuri had learned early on that Victor absolutely writhed when he was praised.   
  
It was actually rather sweet when Yuuri thought about it. He had discovered it on accident - it had been the normal exploration of one another's curves and edges, but a particularly sensitive spot of Yuuri's body had been brushed and it fell out without thinking -    
  
"Just like that - you're so good to me Victor,  _ God _ ...."   
  
Yuuri was really bad about saying things compulsively, but having the gift of seeing Victor's entire body still and his eyes snap wide open was what made it worth it. His mouth was parted in a delicate manner and Yuuri found himself tracing his lower lip with a thumb curiously.   
  
Naturally, he'd feared he said something wrong, but his worry evaporated into surprise when Victor had collapsed against his chest, breathing in short, hot puffs down his neck.   
  
" _ Again _ ...."   
  
Yuuri didn't know what he meant at first, but when Victor starting mouth at the skin just below his jaw and his fingers returned to their ministrations in a place that was for his fingers alone, Yuuri couldn't hold himself back and again the praises slipped from his mouth like butter.   
  
"Don't stop,  __ please don't stop. You're so good-" he swore that Victor's breathing hitched then, and that was the point when realisation dawned and he grew a bit more intrigued.

 

“Do you... like it when I talk like this?"   
  
If the unsteady whimper pressed into his skin was any indication, then he did. Yuuri found that Victor was something of an enigma: a code waiting to be cracked open, if anything. And Yuuri wanted to do just that, uncover every last thing that made his lover shake and whimper like he had then.   
  
_ (He viewed it as both a challenge and an adventure.) _ _   
_   
Yuuri made sure from that point on to always whisper little, affectionate nothings into Victor's ear whenever he was struggling or hovering just on the brink - all it took was a slight nudge and Victor spilled over like it was nothing.   
  
He was truly precious. And Yuuri learned this mostly through their explorative sex - just how queer and yet simultaneously alluring his lover could be.   
  
But there were also some more sinful things he discovered about Victor. And himself. Things like Victor's love to have his hair touched and stroked and pulled; or Yuuri, and his the way his knees grew weak whenever Victor murmured thick, desperate Russian as he lost himself in between where his body started and Yuuri's ended.   
  
While it might have been more embarrassing for some discoveries - such as Victor's discovery of Yuuri's ability to fall apart without ever being touched - there was no judgement in his lover's eyes, there was only unadulterated affection if not a little bit of mischievous interest, and a whispered " _ again _ ?" and all the uncertainty fell away again.   
  
But there was nothing, nothing in the world that could compare to the third way of having sex. To be blunt, it felt somehow lecherous to refer to the entanglement they experienced as sex.   
  
It was the mythical beast people referred to as making love, and it was nothing at all like either of them had anticipated.   
  
The first and second methods always had an end goal; a climax, a rise in action, a descent. It was always done for physical pleasure, to reach the frayed ends of one another's sanity and rip them apart. When they had those kinds of sex the world continued to move: before, during, and after.   
  
But when Victor and Yuuri made love to each other, it was as if the entire world had screeched to a halt. The planet they stood on was minute in their enraptured states. The world could be burning just outside their window and neither would have been aware of it, so absorbed in each other that everything else just simply wasn't.   
  
In romance movies it was always depicted as slow and deliberate, waves upon waves of passion with no real end, but that wasn't necessarily true. Besides, they'd given up on believing romance movies after a while -   
  
If not only because they pressed forward this humiliating assumption that making love was reserved solely for a man and a woman.   
  
It wasn't necessarily homophobic in nature, but in movies that represented homosexuality and more specifically, sexual activities regarding it, they were always so much more cruder. It was automatically assumed that because no procreation was occurring, no real affection could be manifested within the act.   
  
Instead it was blatantly painted as an act relying solely on physical pleasure and nothing more. Because if there was no hope for building a family within their actions, it could only be a sinful indulgence in one another. Right?   
  
Wrong,  _ wrong _ \- there was nothing on earth that was as much of a lie as that.   
  
_ (Except time itself. It had a sick way of abusing them both.) _ _   
_   
Victor remembered the first time that he made love to Yuuri Katsuki more vividly than he remembered anything else in his life - his Grand Prix wins, his birthdays with his family, receiving Maccachin. All of those memories were pale and distorted in comparison to the vivid remembrance he had of making love to Yuuri.   
  
It was the night before the Grand Prix.   
  
And he had never seen anxiety eat away at somebody as aggressively as it had towards Yuuri when he found the other man curled up on his bed, his body stiff and unmoving, his eyes wide and unfocused.   
  
Seeing him with such an expression was one of the most painful things Victor had ever seen in his life.   
  
Victor was no good dealing with other people's emotions, especially when displayed so obviously in front of him. He didn't think Yuuri even knew he was there, because he'd slipped in without permission hoping to give him a goodnight kiss and instead found him in this position.   
  
It only made sense that he would be uncomfortable with other people's emotions: he had spent so long masking and distorting his own that he didn't even know how they naturally worked.    
  
If he had ever been this anxious he would have simply distracted himself. He would have never reached this point, really, because he was so busy building lies for himself that he couldn't focus on it.   
  
But of course Yuuri was panicking. Not only did he carry the weight of all of Hasetsu and even Japan, but he also bore the weight of being the protégée of Victor Nikiforov, one of the best, if not the best, ice skaters in the world.   
  
_ (Was that too narcissistic?) _ _   
_   
He'd said it before. While Yuuri was used to the expectations reflecting poorly on himself, he had never experienced somebody else having to suffer through it from his mistakes as well. That kind of burden - the ability to ruin somebody else's reputation with a flick of his wrist...   
  
It was what made Yuuri like this. Frail and easily broken. While Yuuri might have been physically strong, his mentality had always seemed to give out when he needed it most.   
  
Victor had come to Japan hoping to help Yuuri improve. And if that meant giving him the mental resilience of a diamond, so be it.   
  
Even if his experience in that subject was absolutely zilch.   
  
The events that took place were a blur - Victor remembered climbing into bed with Yuuri, he also remembered gathering his shaking body into his arms and squeezing him until his muscles ached, desperate to hold Yuuri close and never let go.   
  
Yuuri had struggled to open up to him in the first place: now, as both his coach and his lover, Victor had to meet him halfway whenever Yuuri opened up to him.   
  
_ ("Breathe." What a stupid thing to say - that was just instinct.) _ _   
_   
There had been a lot of flustered attempts to calm Yuuri down. Victor was inexperienced with emotions and it was painfully obvious in the way his fingers trembled on Yuuri's forehead and his eyes were wild with worry.   
  
But, even if Victor struggled to be honest with himself, he could try to be honest with Yuuri. He was imperfect, after all - it had been Yuuri who taught him that - and in order to close the gap he had to get over it.   
  
So when Yuuri started laughing, a soft and weak sound, it was all due to Victor's willingness to open himself. He hadn't even needed to say a word to Yuuri (they always seemed to contradict what he really meant anyways) and instead he had simply let go of all his fears and worries in exchange for Yuuri's.   
  
With shaking hands and nervous glances, Victor had unknowingly bared his stomach to Yuuri. Yuuri had shown a part of him that was weak and afraid and Victor had done the same. And it was enough.   
  
Victor claimed to remember every last second of that night, but there were parts that were so blindingly beautiful that it was necessary to be ambiguous when describing them because it felt wrong to pinpoint exactly what he had felt.   
  
On that fancy hotel bed miles upon miles away from either of their homes, Victor had found exactly what it meant to make love to Yuuri.    
  
And it was unlike anything that mere words could describe.    
  
_ (In Yuuri's skin he found a world he had never even been aware of before.) _ _   
_   
They had had sex multiple times prior, constantly pushing each other to their limits and challenging authority, but this was nothing even remotely close - it was endless, and it was ethereal.   
  
_ (Perhaps this was exactly what Victor's vague mind had been alluding to when he choreographed Eros - the sensation of endless pleasure, waves upon waves until both parties had no choice but to succumb and let themselves drown in the weight of it all.) _ _   
_   
When he made love to Yuuri, Victor saw stars - an entire galaxy etched upon his skin, marks made by every scrape of his teeth and every press of his fingers. Yuuri's skin was a blank canvas begging to be painted on, and he couldn't help but fill every spare inch with proof of his love.   
  
There had been points in Victor's life where he had considered death. Not because he craved it or yearned for it, but simply because it was there and ignoring it was just foolish. When he drove home he could sometimes feel a burn in the tips of his fingers that considered jerking the wheel, but cowardice ran strong - or self preservation, either way.   
  
_ (If he were to become a corpse at any moment in time, what mark would he leave behind?) _ _   
_   
Victor already knew he had made history in the world of ice skating. He had shattered world record upon world record, including his own. He had abruptly cut off his career to coach some obscure Japanese let down without so much as a word beforehand. He made art with every step, every kick of blade on ice.   
  
But in a few years, that could be nothing. Papers shredded, a world that burned. Nothing would last forever.   
  
And really, there was no way to leave a permanent mark on a world that wasn't permanent in and of itself. It would all burn eventually. He could fade away within a decade.    
  
So instead of focusing on making a mark on the world around him, he decided to turn and leave a reminder of himself on the one person who meant everything to him. If the world was going to be reminded of his presence it would be through Yuuri.   
  
_ "I love you - " _   
  
It was no new thing to be uttered, and truthfully they might have worn the words thin if such a thing were even possible, but when it was spoken into every last inch of his lover's skin, over and over until he felt dizzy from it all, it was anything but tiring.   
  
_ (If he were to die right now he would want to leave a mark only on Yuuri.) _ _   
_   
Physical marks were something Victor planted on Yuuri all the time. Lightly raised skin to deep bruises, abused lips and a tired body, all because of him, but none of that was the same as the mark he left on Yuuri that night before the Grand Prix.   
  
He had turned Yuuri into a galaxy of his very own. He left parts of himself everywhere - words whispered into his flesh, slight pressure, a rhythm that stuttered and fell with the weight of the emotions he felt.   
  
For all the lying Victor had been doing, exposing himself like this felt wrong. But when Yuuri stared at him with eyes that were wide and trusting he couldn't even bring himself to think about it.   
  
Victor lost himself somewhere between his body and Yuuri's. He truly could not breathe at points because there was only room for Yuuri and nothing else, not even oxygen. He was not greedy or abusive or explorative that night -    
  
No, he was not even Victor Nikiforov. He was simply with Yuuri and that was all he needed, to know that he was there. Physical pleasure didn't stand a chance against the waves of whatever he was feeling now - truly submerging himself within it until he struggled for air.   
  
He couldn't bear to let Yuuri go and Yuuri refused to let him go as well. Together they created a universe completely separate of the one they stood in before, one that only had room for them, for their love.   
  
Everything about Yuuri was beautiful, from his thick lashes that were starry with tears to his lean body coated in a sheen of sweat. After everything was said and done and both barely had the energy to inhale and exhale, they simply stared at each other and communicated through there. There was no need for words because they simply did not do justice.   
  
Victor held out his arms for Yuuri and the other gladly moved against him, his body feverish and sweat soaked. Victor held him close and refused to let him go - because there was nobody in this world who could steal Yuuri away from him now. He had left his mark.   
  
_ "Do you believe in angels, Victor?"  _ _   
_   
Yuuri's voice was thick with sleep and yet his straying fingers still traced patterns on Victor's bare chest, wondering and curious. Victor felt his heart seize in his chest cruelly.   
  
_ "I believe in you, here and now." _ _   
_   
Perhaps it was too sentimental, too childish of a notion and yet it felt too perfect of a thing to say. He saw the physical manifestation of somebody he could love and believe in right before his eyes, and he didn't even know of he deserved that much.   
  
And that...   
  
__ "That's enough for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha i have no regrets come at me  
> let me know what you think!! ive got a draft going for p2 of the box soulmate au and its Gold ;)


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